


Attempts Are Made

by VioletAnarkist



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Anxiety, Freeform, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, My First Fanfic, Non-binary character, Other, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:35:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletAnarkist/pseuds/VioletAnarkist
Summary: I'm ashamed for making this,Sorry to the world at large I guess
Relationships: LibLeft/AuthLeft
Comments: 81
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To be real with you, I don't know how to write for shit  
> I'm dyslexic and dumb idk if those two are related...  
> ummmm.... i don't know how to do this :D

I strode into the small cell I'd set up for such a time: a single stone slab in the corner with a thin white sheet now filthily, an ugly stone basin in the other, concrete walls, cracked and stained by many the inhabitant, letting no light in apart for the single flickering bulb hanging threateningly from the ceiling. It was the picture of drab and loneliness. The perfect backdrop to long forgotten crimes.

I looked at the kid, I knew they were basically the Nazis' pet. But apart from that? I'd honestly never heard them talk, seen their face from beyond the bandanna they hid behind, or knew anything really at all about them. I didn't even know their name. Nothing. I expected some random right wing ideology, something not too mainstream, but most reincarnate ideologies are already accounted for, they were already being tracked by one of my agents at all times. We couldn't let the Nazis allies run wild in the middle of a simmering war.

They sat on the raised stone slab of a bed calmly waiting. They sat there for little under an hour, eyes trained on the floor, hands folded on their lap, mouth in an unreadable line across their slightly obscured face. They glowed a dull grey, once in a while flickering to a green whisper before sputtering back to the original misty fog. we had been observing them, as well as waiting for the Nazi, nothing could be gathered from watching them any longer apart for how long they could stay still.

They hadn’t moved since they were put in the cell. They looked so lost. Empty. Alone. Sat in the middle of the stone slab, dirty cloth crumpled slightly.

I strode in head held high eyes fixed on the small creature sat stock still on the bed. I had plastered a disdainful expression on my face. trying to say i had better things to do with an upturned nose and angry eyes. I walked up so I was directly in front of them. I stared down at short brown fluffy hair, their head was still bowed as if in defeat. A clear sign of weakness.

”He’s not coming for me.” Their voice was flat, void, so utterly down trodden they couldn't even summon the energy to try sounding brave, scared, any emotion apart for a dull sense of despair and hopelessness.

I was taken aback, they were so blunt. So cold. Fearless to the doom they said lay upon them. It must be a lie. They were the Nazis' pet. They were never without the Nazi. They had to be worth something to him, even as a commodity. They must be bluffing. 

“And why should I believe you? All you want is to get free.''

I retorted haughty, although it fell flat at the end, not as biting or sharp as I'd wanted. I was curious how they'd respond. This void emotionless husk of a bowed head and scruffy attire.

“Did I ask to leave? Honestly if he came here I'd be killed on sight -as I deserve-. But… he said that if i died… if i died it wouldn't matter… I'm just a toy, a distraction… I'm already a- a replacement. He isn't coming. He doesn't need to...” 

They looked up at me, for the first time I saw their face.

Their face was rounded, cheeks a pale slightly pink grey-glow, brown hair hung choppley around their face and their eyes, a murky pool of amber flakes on foggy brown; like cats eyes glowing out of the darkness on a cold autumn street, reflecting the golden glow of the quickly ageing streetlights. But their eyes were dull and listless as they gazed back at me unwavering. They seemed to not hold any energy, any aptitude for emotion, nothing. They seemed so lost

The most noticeable mark marring the ethereal green glow was a brutally applied bruise blossomed over their left eye. It seemed to swirl in front of my eyes sickeningly mesmerising, the dark purple spreading out, blotches of yellow breaking up the hideous picture, green singeing the edges it held a story. A story, I was not sure I wanted to know.

This person was always with the Nazi, they had to be worth something to him, but that would mean he… did this? If this person was so important, he wouldn't let them… Get like this. Nazi protected his men, I would give him that. But that would mean no one would be able to harm someone so close to him... unless...

As i studied further other scars flitted out at me: a thin gash across their jaw line like someone had delicately sliced with a knife keeping the slice steady and deep enough to scar, it would of heart for days healing; a flurry of small bruises on their throat somewhat resembling fingerprints, marks of restraint on their wrists black against their too-pale skin and a single white scar just above their lip as though their face had been slammed into something hard and sharp splitting the skin sourly.

They were broken. They were bruised. They were crushed and scared and innocent. They were useful.

I don't honestly know what swayed me, they were nothing remarkable, nothing unique or special -to me-; But something egged me on, something told me that they were useful -or could be useful- this was dumb, but I listen to my instinct. Any way, what's the worst that could happen?

“What is your name?” 

I asked as calmly as I could, trying to mask my spontaneous decision making. This person was to become part of my plan, whether they wanted to or not. I was to know them better and know who they were. I’d met them all (or at least it felt like that) I was one of the oldest, longest standing ideologies, nothing they said could faze me. This thing Nazi kept as a punching bag will become his worst enemy.

“Wh- p- pardon?” They stumbled, expression crumbling, anxiously swallowing. Their eyes went wide, their whole body began to move no longer void like, leg began to twitch uneasily while their eyes shifted around the space restlessly, now they had something to truly fear; the unknown.

“I- I- Wh-'' I stared them down pointedly not blinking, 

“You thought I was to kill you?” I crooked an eyebrow at them 

“w- well… yea…” they stumbled eyes averted. They had no way out and they knew it 

“well… plans changed. Now what. Is. your. Name.” 

I slowed down my words my lips inadvertently twitching at the confused expression they shot up at me before dropping their gaze back to the ground. It was all a game at this point, a dance I knew all too well, scare them push them, trick then con, spin them around in a twisted up song. this room had listened to many a twisted song.

”Ummm… I… I thought… I- umm…” 

I got impatient 

“Don’t think. Just spit it out! It's not that hard. It's your name. Now give me your name. Or do you want to spend some time alone? In the dark. With some time to think.” 

My tone was sharp. To scare people; To bend them to my will. You have to. You have to gain control.

My brash aura lighting up the room an ominous blood red, like scars from the past, blood stains once were now the cracks dripped scarlet. I was finally in my element, finally in my sway of intimidation and control. But the smaller person flinched back violently, eyes glowing with terror. They were listless just a second ago, but now they were moving like a caged animal, frenzied for an escape. Their grey glow minuscule against my wave of blood. 

I stared down at this pitiful creature, they were weak, I could tell why Nazi didn't want them (I could also tell exactly why he kept them) struggling under my gaze I was all powerful in that moment. I could have killed them, so easily. A snap of their neck. A quick pull of the trigger. Easy. Clean. But still…

I lent down so I was eye level with the trembling creature, their bruised eye and piteous shaking painting a painful visage. I soften my tone as best I could. I didn't want to frighten the creature to the point it wouldn't answer my questions. The Nazi may not want it back, or maybe he did, it didn't matter. They had something maybe important information, maybe something else, they were worth keeping for the insight on the enemy. They were useful. That's what I told myself anyway. At the very least crushing the Nazi with one of his own would be, fun.

“Hey, hey now, listen…”

I slowly reached my hand up to hold their chin so as they were to look at me, they flinched when I first took hold but let me do it anyway staying stock still like a deer in headlight their gaze unmoving, unnerving, uncertain. 

“I don't wish to harm you.”

An expression flitted across their face, if you blink you miss it fashion, but it seemed to say ‘yea sure, I’ll believe it when I see it,’ I kept holding their face up to me slowly blinking at them 

“Can you please tell me, what is your name?” 

The person bit their lip and then mumbled 

“What is my name anymore?...”

It was sad, lost even, eyes trailed on the floor, deep in their own little world. Although it seemed to also be in turmoil 

“Nazi said- Nazi said I was… I was just-” 

they bit their lip uncertainty playing in their eyes as they stared directly at me 

“Anco- no, I- I guess I was Post Left… At a push… But… ”

I squinted a bit 

“you a centrist? kid.”

I was now back to my original voice still holding their chin so they were forced to look at me. My eyes bore holes into theirs, my smile just a little too thin and a little too much teeth for it to seem genuine. They began to shake, jittery uncertain. looking for an escape route.

I'd tried so hard to kill any of the centrists every time I met their incarnations. But it was difficult to kill an ideological spirit, that only clung to the next believer the moment its host was killed for good. Jump after jump they burn in the eyes of a new undead puppet, spreading new lies. Not for lack of trying. 

Only an ideology can kill another ideologies form, I knew this as well as any other ‘old’ host. I would have to kill the kid if they were an actual centrist, centrist that did not seek change did not strive for something new, did not try to overthrow the status quo, they were all just sheep. If this thing was a centrist Nazis standards for who he associated with had plummeted further than i thought possible. The only thing stopping me from shooting their brains out right in the moment was that green flicker, something wasn't quite right here.

“NO! No I’m- I’m not… a- a Centrist. Nazi… Nazi said I was the scourge of the earth, but I was good to use when disposing of the Centrists. I'm not a Centrist. Nazi said that was good. But- but… if you want me to be… I- I don’t-''

They talked fast, stumbling over themselves desperate to defend themselves, apply themselves, try to seem useful… I was bored of this mumbling wreck 

“So you say the Nazi had YOU. A strange mumbling creature who, as I have gathered, does not know what they are. Nazi, the authoritarian had YOU by his side. All the time. But he doesn't care for you? Why? is it not impractical?”

They looked small. Weak. Helpless. They shook their head lightly. i dropped my hand form holding them in place, as they were trying to back up on the concrete slab desperately trying to get away. Protect. I wasn't sure what came over me but… I trusted my instinct but this seemed… absurd.

I took a deep sigh, this was dangerous, they could be here to kill me… But they were so little. I had no better solution.

“Before I became, the great Authoritarian Left ideology you see me standing before you as. I was Borya Ivanov, the worker, the soldier, the rebellious. I grew up under lies, I watched my world crumble around me, I suffered terrible wounds. All at the hand of unjust government capitalism. The people had no way of knowing… We were starving... We were dying... we were- we were...

Sick of their lies.

I joined the revolution, toiled away day and night, knowing I was to die for my cause. Knowing that when the people ran their final charge I had to die, to make my life count. I did, that day, on the final charge I killed ten men, but I fell… Just like I was meant to... Just like so many others that day...

But I, just as all ideologies, woke up once more…

My predecessor died and my personage was selected. For some reason, I was the chosen vessel. I elected not to question that decision a long time ago, probably longer than you’ve been in that form, whoever you’re meant to be.” 

I took a deep breath, staring right into the small grey green batted face and panic stricken eyes. And I asked,

“What did you die for?”

Simple and sweet, no one could dispute my gentile tone, although the words could hold so many unturned secrets. It was the last question I could ask to find out who they were. If they were an ideology, which from their green glow they must be, they had to of died related to or directly because of their beliefs.

“I was Jay. Just... Jay.”

They were slightly muffled by their lithe fingers now pressed to their lips, but the words were clear. Gently careful not to scare them, I sat, on the concrete temporary bed slab. I bit my lip but knew to remain silent, you let them tell you when investigating someone so… jumpy. Otherwise you could scare them off. huddled in the corner.

“I died at the hands of… of…” 

They trailed off their voice still muffled by their hoodie. For a minute the silence hung in the air, deafening.

“The?”

I asked, prompting them to continue, this was the best I was probably going to get tonight. Let them come to me. Slowly work on their anxieties. They were still trapped in my hands but I was only to make them feel safe, for now.

“The cops. A cop. I don’t know!”

This time they weren't as muffled, actually looking over at me with wide pleading eyes. I sat, calmly. Legs straight heals together hand resting gently on my lap. I was trying to remain calm and nonthreatening. A caged animal is easier to contain when calm.

“It was a protest… it went real sour, real quick. I- I had to… I had to.”

“You ‘had to’ what?”

They looked at me, turning to face me, no bowing their head or ducking away, no hiding. A steely glint in their eyes. Not shying away. I recognised that gleam, the green. This kid…

“You died for your people. I died for my people. The way I died was- I was knocked to the ground and kicked to death, that's what a steel toed boot does to the head. It's not glamorous but I knew best.”

They seemed so calm, confident, far cry from their previous meek demeanour. But it fell away as fast as it came. 

“I thought i knew best anyway” 

Shattering like glass  
.  
“But Nazi- Nazi showed me the… the error of my… ways.”

This was what had happened. How had the Nazi got to them before me, how had Nazi broken them so… completely. This wasn't...

“Who were you possessed by?”

It couldn't be, it could be. I was hopeful but also terrified. I had to know. I hadn't asked the questions right. I was wrong they couldn't be…

A shiver quacked their whole body, their eyes shone with fleeting uncertainty. They raised their gaze from the ruff crack they'd been studying etching a zigzagging path across the floor.

“Anarcho communism…”


	2. Chapter 2

Fuck.

This can't be right. I had tabs, I was tracking all changes…

But the dull flickering green wasn't a lie. I knew that much. But this is infuriating. What can I do now? This was not the strong Ancom, this wasn't anyone I’d met before. The old Ancoms? Strong. Bold. Brash. 

Shaking next to me was not the person I'd... 

I'd never met an Ancom who wasn't headstrong, I'd never… 

Why did the Nazi do this? We’re at war.

My allies should be strong. Not this. Sputtering. Crying. mess. But something stopped me. I would never say it was my own weakness.

Hardening my gaze, I stared down at them, what am I doing? They are weak, I should kill them. 

But I'm weak. I’d promised myself. I'd promised them. And they can still be useful. Watch Nazi get crushed by them...

“Interesting…”

Removing the emotion, detaching from my words I reevaluated Ancom. Eyes pointedly dragging over them. Judging them. Their scrappy hoodie. The banana they usually obscured their face with tide around their wrist. Dried blood on their jaw. What can they be worth?

The world.

“I am pleased to have met you, Anarcho-Communist…”

Slowly I stood up, staring at the war stained grey wall opposite us, I needed more time to think. I need more time to understand what I was to do next. 

“We will have better correspondence in the morning…”

I refused to look at them again, I can't look at them again. The cell was small and dingy, the only form of light coming from a flickering light bulb in the ceiling, but it was safe. Maybe I should just leave them here for the rest of time? They'd be close to me…

They'd be protected. 

Once I was in the corridor, listening to the heavy iron door slam ringing up and down, I realised. This was going to be an issue. 

I trailed down the corridor, the same as every other corridor: dirt stained white walls cracked and ancient; electrical wiring exposed; small decrepit lights humming a song of forgotten nights and iron door after iron door after iron door, caging the screams of long forgotten men, muffled by the thick ashen grey cages, it mingled with the heavy clack of my boots on the ground. 

What should i do? What can i do? What am I going to do? 

I reached my room, it looked like every other room in the complex. Opening the heavy door not paying attention to the space. It was just the same, always in order, always home. 

Propaganda from many won battles lined my walls. A desk in the corner, paperwork stacked neatly in the corner. The locked box under my mattress.

I sat down on the bed heavily. It had been a long day. It had been a strange day. I’d never let myself think of my feelings, what use do I have with feelings? But now I regret it, as I sat on my uncomfortable blue mattress, feelings I couldn't recognise rushed by. 

“What am I going to do?”

I knew what I was going to do. It wasn't a solution to my problem but… 

Three bottles of vodka in. I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to get Ancom back in my life. For real this time. No stolen kisses. No hiding in the shadows, no pretending I didn't know her… them… him? Who cares?

Never again would I stand, watch another bullet price their skin. Without hearing me tell them I loved them, I needed them, what I would do to have them with me for the rest of days.

Last time I lost Ancom I had been unable to do anything for an incalculable amount of time. I'd been lost. I promised myself I would never be so weak again. 

But here I was. Crying in my locked quarters, over a person who probably hated me.

I passed out at about two am and was up at six am, truth be told I felt no difference as I dolled out daily orders. Void inside, but I put on a strong front. Impeccably dressed, as always, calculated control.

By One pm I began feeling it though, endless corridors filled with endless meetings, endless orders given to an endless amount of faceless men. All I could think of was them. 

I’d sent food to their cell that morning, it was unorthodox, we didn’t feed Nazi’s men and as I hadn’t said who they were beyond the Nazi, people were concerned; but no one argued with me, no one would dare. 

I was beginning to get unorganised. Piles of paperwork on my desk and all i could think about was what i was going to say to them. Will they hate me?

But that could not have mattered less to me at this point in time. I had time at nine pm set to meet with them again. I was looking forward to that. But before that I had an important...

Meeting. To attend to.

_________________________________________________________

“What do you want Kulak?”

It had been a long time since we had last crossed paths face to face like this. He hadn't died as I'd hoped. The only reason my men hadn’t killed him on sight was because he had used his… skill. When entering my land. It was the only way he could have.

“Ow… well Authoritarian Left, you see,” He passed for dramatic effect before continuing eyes twinkling. ”You are rumoured to have someone in your containment, that is meant to be worth a lot, at the moment…“he bit his lip considering his next words, ”and i wanted to know if the rumours were true.” he smiled wryly, waiting for me to make my move.

He knew? How could he know? I only found out because I had them. Unless he is somehow related to this? Filthy Kulak of course he did this! But he only said rumoured...

“Who may that be?”

I can't tell him I know. Can't tell him anything yet. The people interviewed in this room could all vouch for keeping your cards close. And he knew how to hold his cards better than anyone I'd ever met.

He was almost as old as me, you had to be smart to live that long.

His sunglasses hid his eyes, but they didn’t hide his smug smile. The snake's smile was cruel and vindictive. The bright yellow fedora tilted back revealing his black hair slicked back. He was the image of relaxation. He was in control, or so he thought. Lent back in the solid oak, straight back, wooden chair. Head tilted slightly legs crossed under the table.

If he’d known the things done to people in this room, in that chair. He would be running. The memory of blood splattered across the cracked walls. Men slumped in the chair he lounged in, begging for their life.

It was the only thing keeping me from killing him and his arrogant smile.

“You MUST know by now?”

His usually condescending accent exemplified as he dragged out his question, as he unfolded his hands and lent forward on the table. 

I'd once tried to make ‘peace’ with this bourgeoisie idiot. Now we were in a form of alliance where we didn't interact or interfere with the other. I would have killed him if I had been in control of where he would be resurrected. But for now he was both out of my control and ok at killing centrists.

“I am unsure of what you are asking for.”

I took a moment to answer going over the possible outcomes. But I needed to know why he was here and what he wanted. I remained calm and unemotional. Not portraying anything. 

His smug smile soured a little and he looked at me head cocked sideways slightly.

“I want to meet the person you detained yesterday.”

He finally replied with a sickly sweet smile. One where he flashed his animalistic white teeth across the cold concrete topped table. So he wants to meet Ancom? Should I let him? He might have known about their situation. But he seemed uncertain to approach the topic.

“We can meet them now?” 

It was deliberately framed as a question, an invitation he could take my challenge or understand my tone. 

Across from me he looked considerate. his sunglasses still obscured his eyes, i had no clue what he was thinking, but the way he tilted his head was familiar. 

After a few seconds of deliberation he finally responded

“Only if the meeting is not anywhere near your cells.”

My men may not be able to kill him, but we could have contained him. He has always been a smart man, but it's never bad to try.  
Should I bring them up here? Would that hurt me? Would that hurt them? I couldn't tell what he would get out of meeting them. 

I consider. Staring at the wall behind him, he still lounged back in the rigid backed chair seemingly uncaring. The wall had a gravely texture as though water weathered, I wondered if that was from a leak of constant washing. 

Where did he find out I had Ancom? Nazi wouldn't brag about a loss in ranks. And why did he want to meet them so bad, he marched into possibly hostile territory? 

None of my questions could be asked politely, without arousing distrust. Of course there was no pretence of trust between us, but a question for a question is Ancap's way of negotiation and I didn't want him to know too much.

So I took off my battered ushanka and left it on the tabletop, a peace offering of sorts and he understood it and reciprocated. He took off his glasses and fedora and put them on the table opposite my hat. A shared moment of eye contact then I stood. 

“I must make call.”  
I calmly said, eyes fixed on his yellow ones, when he utilised his skills they turned to currency symbols. He nodded understandingly and lent back in his chair calm as ever, slicked back hair glow under the bright interrogation light.

I stood from the table, boots making a sharp jarring sound, it danced around the empty room. So my meeting with Ancom was to be pushed forward? So be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like i had an idea for this story and liek idk if it works but like i felt like continnuing it so liem suck it common sence!
> 
> basically they all have 'powers' and its drama uwu 
> 
> dear god kill me.


	3. Chapter 3

The corridor seemed darker than usual, the lights in the ceiling not nearly as bright as the interrogation rooms, silence threatening to envelop me like a wave. The exposed wiring along the walls is the only differentiation between the aged white wall, stained grey with age. The interrogation room door swung shut behind me with a cruel, controlled click. The echo hung in the corridor for a long moment before the silence settled and the task at hand became the only option to fill my mind.

I was stuck. I never liked thinking in silence, I always thought it was easier to tell what I was thinking, but now I was thankful for it. How should they be brought up? Should we not meet in the interrogation room? Can I just get Ancap to leave? But i'd already agreed to let him meet them, i was stuck in a fight of niceties, holding our breath waiting for the others attack. He was my sworn enemy, the opposite of what I was, but he was powerful. More powerful than i (one of the oldest ideologies) could begin to consider going up against.

Ancom had to be brought to the current room. God damn you Kulak capitalist scum. I want them to be controllable, not panicked in an unknown environment like a scared cat moved to a new unfamiliar place. But i can’t get rid of Ancap. No one can.

I made three calls in the silent decollete corridor, my words swallowed up by the hungry beast hidden behind the walls, starved of interaction. I had to call off my meeting with my head of singular defence, who was understanding of the issue at hand and wished me luck, he was a hard worker and learned quickly, I trusted him with the troops lives, i trusted him with my life.

The second call was a simple request for another chair to be brought to the room, the woman on the other end was fast, she said it would be there in a few minutes. Her voice was hardened just like every other person in my arm but she held a somewhat sweet demeanour. Like a babushka.

As I made the next call it was as if the walls lent in to listen, it was just paranoia, but I felt as though I was being watched and judged. As though the walls were whispering about me, talking about me. Those thoughts were for a weaker man, I had to be strong and calm. Leave my human flaws behind, I was the current face of the authoritarian left. I was strong and powerful, not insecure.

Another faceless man answered the phone, he was ready to take orders and do his best to fulfil my every charge.

“What do you ask sir?”

His voice was gravely and strong, no sense of humanity beyond his words, he’d fallen into the ranks of my army, liberated by my command and become another cog in the machine. 

“I wish for the prisoner in cell #45 to be removed and brought to the interrogation room #12”

My voice was calm, no empathy portrayed, no humanity left in me. The walls breathed whispered opinions, unwanted, unneeded

“Yes sir, any transport arrangements?” 

he then paused as though to think, the silence of the corridor was completed for a few moments hanging like the heavy air warning of rain: before I realised he was waiting for an answer. I was tired after all, functionality slipping from my grasp,

“We should have them sedated before moving them, i believe a level six should work.”

He didn't seem to indicate any sort of confusion over my silence. The man took a moment to talk to another person before returning to me with a dutiful,

“Yes sir and how many men should bring them if they're sedated?” 

That was a question. We had no idea if they were strong, and the men didn’t even know who they were to actually transport. I shared a moment of deep thought staring at the red and blue wiring lining the light source up with the last. 

Men were already stationed at the end of the corridors, to avoid demonstrating outward aggression I made them keep their distance for our meeting. But they were poised for an attack so we already had decent protection. Can Ancom still be dangerous, sedated?

The light made a quiet clicking sound as i decided what to do, 

“Send three men with them, once they are with us two can leave one must remain outside door,”

The thought of another person listening to the walls silent whispers comforted me in a strange way

“Ow and bring more sedative for when they have to be brought back.”

I added it as an afterthought, they cant be allowed to come sedated and go back sober. If they do go back. 

“Yes sir. We will be 15 minutes sir.”

He was a faceless man nameless man, in my army of faceless nameless men. But he took orders and that's all I want from my men. The corridor seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as I hung up my phone. It was silent once more and the walls settled back finished with their eavesdropping. 

All I wanted to do was lean my head against the cool stone wall, let the cold wash over me sooth my rushing mind. But I must not show weakness. I must not let them see me struggle, suffer, stressed. I was always in control. Always ready for anything to come my way. I adapted to the world around me and overcame it.

But right now I was going back into a room with my enemy. The one person who I really wanted to feel relaxed around me was going into a high stress situation with me and I hadn't gotten any sleep. My sanity was sliding. But I put on a confident persona and twisted neatly on my heel, opening the heavy door with a sharp click and reentered the room.

Nothing had changed while I was out, I quickly observed the space keen eyes studying each edge. The walls were dark and the floor spotless as they should be. The bright light was still over the table and my charge hadn’t been touched. My Ushanka and Ancaps fedora and sunglasses were on the table in the same spots. 

Finally I looked at Ancap, his yellow suit perfect as always, his tie hung slightly forward as he lounged carefree in the wood chair, he looked at me with alert but easy going yellow eyes. He smiled at me, once again flashing his sparkling white teeth.

“They will be here in 15 minuets,”

I say simply, not retiring Ancaps easy going smile. A few minutes of tense silence passed where Ancap tried to portray a relaxed demeanour while I remained stony and calm, the woman i talked with over the phone knocks on the door before entering with a wooden chair similar to Ancaps (apart from this one wasn’t nailed to the floor) she nodded calmly to me after putting it down at unoccupied side and left the room with a curt “sir.” Ancap raised an eyebrow.

“So you employ women?” 

He didn’t seem condescending, just curious. Our army had only employed men till a few years ago (Ancap probably already knew) and we had been cultivating our female soldiers to be just as strong as our men

“Yes we are.”

I responded curtly, even if he was just trying to have civilised conversation I wanted the interactions with Ancap to be minimised as much as possible. He grimaced for a fraction of a second struggling to get a discussion started, it became apparent he suffered in the silence even more than I had. That fact gave me a little reassurance at least.

He bit his lip trying to find something to talk about, eyes flashing around the room like he was trying to memorise every detail. i'd never really seen him without the glasses and it was interesting to be able to see how he thought. He had observant eyes that noted every detail calmly and judged what to do through observing the space. 

Finally he slumped back, defeated, but still somehow maintaining that graceful air that always blurred his actions. We sat in silence, the bright light glaring down on us like a disappointed authority figure. The tension hanging in the room simmering below the surface unable to become apparent for fear of retaliation. We were both powerful people and we were evenly matched, we could not outwardly war. Although our basic instincts told us to kill each other. Civility won out, for better or worse. The silence dragged on.

It felt like hours but it was only minutes. we kept in the silence, Ancap slowly becoming more and more visibly uncomfortable the sleaze capitalist scumbag unable to hide behind sweetened words and ‘lucrative’ offers. 

The room seemed to echo with drawn out screams of the many men who entered this space and did not leave alive. The room held power and as I sat staring down another powerful ideology I remembered the men who had sat where he sat. Blood had painted this too clean table top, letting it glow under the blazing light beaming down aggressively from above. The air was stagnant and anxious. Breathing it was like breathing the toxic gas polluting Ancaps domain.

Finally a solid and powerful knock came at the door after a beat i responded to the knock,

“Bring them in.”

The order was clear and rung around the room bouncing off the stone walls, a clack was made as the door was opened. They were silhouetted in the door frame, hallway dim compared to the brash light in the interrogation room.their body was slumped over being held up by two people one male one female carrying them carefully, they were so small it was as if they were a rag doll so easily broken it was comical they had got this far. 

The sharp intake of breath brought me back to reality, staring at the small person draped between my shoulders filled me with something I would suppose is akin to pity. They were so delicate and sweet i couldn't tell if they were even breathing,

“Put them in the chair,”

The woman nodded and took the small person so she was supporting all of their weight (which was not a lot to be honest), the man, a broad and imposing figure stood diligently in the doorway as she carried them over to the chair, her long brown hair obscuring their face slightly from me. As she placed them down in the seat they slumped slightly, their eyes glazed and their lips parted to create an almost innocent look of curiosity that had to be the product of an oblivious drugged up haze of goodwill.

“How long till the drugs wear off?” 

I ask, staring at the grey hoodie clad creature slumped over in the chair, their flickering are similar to ancient lights slowly dying in the corridor.

“About six minuets and they'll be lucid sir.”

Her voice was calm and level she looked me in the eye fearlessly. I nodded curtly then gesture for her to leave, the big man in the doorway still standing ready for orders

“I will be in the corridor sir.”

She said curtly before nodding and walking out the door followed by her fellow soldier the door swung shut behind them with a satisfying click and then the room was silent again. 

I turned to Ancap with a neutral expression to find him staring at Ancom with some wonder. His eyes studied in the manner they seemed to use on everything, almost as if he was calculating their worth evaluating the time and effort he was willing to pay them. emotions I could not recognise danced across his face, and then a feeling I was all too familiar with bloomed from within his eyes, grief, but something more lurked beyond the flames of loss. Before i could ask why he was so enthralled by the barley lucid person, he murmured almost to himself but it was phrased as a question,

“This- They were- Nazi had them?”

He sounded incredulous, eyes blown wide lips parted slightly. The fidgeting from earlier rekindled itself and he was moving like the flames behind his eyes, hands clenching and unclenching turning his knuckles white, head swaying as though listening to a unhearable tune and eyes flitting up back and forth from me to them and down and around, over and over.

“They are not who they used to be.”

He turned to me the grief in his eyes that would be hidden behind glass on full display, but he had that smile he always uses when he is trying to make a deal the smile that held so much cocky confidence you wanted to punch him, nut that smile had won him a lot of trust that smile now tried to guard his most defended secret,

“How long till their lucid?”

So he does care about something…  
He cares about something that I've sworn to protect  
This'll be interesting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna be honest I've never really done creative writing   
> this is a bit of an adventure, (For FuN)  
> so if you have any tips or like i'm getting gamma wrong being told is really helpful
> 
> love ya'll


	4. Chapter 4

The air was thick with anticipation, dust drifting in a mournful dance beneath the blinding light, it was silent apart for the soft uneven breaths Ancom was struggling to get out. They were shivering, although the room was a moderate temperature, their slumped form quivered like the glowing dust. 

Slowly their body slumped completely, their movements stopped. Now they seemed almost unnaturally still like they were waiting. The baited air became almost suffocating, I looked over at Ancap, I finally noticed. His eyes were fixed on Ancom, glazed over as though he didn’t actually see what was in front of him. Lips parted slightly as he stared unblinkingly into a space that seemed to be endless. It was unsettling.

Finally, they showed they were functioning, they looked up with a hardened gaze. Stoney unfeeling eyes, the gaze I’d saw on thousands of battle-hardened men a gaze that when shifted slightly revealed grate pain and desperation.

“What do you want from me?”

Their voice was as cold as their gaze, laced with acidic rage, but their lower lip was trembling and as I evaluated them further their leg was bobbing uncontrollably just below the table. This was all a front. I know how to play this game.

“What do you think we want?”

My voice was calm level but the undertone of mockery adding a sharp edge to my words. The room was still as I worked Ancap still sat frozen not seemingly able to drag his gaze away. They tried to hide that they flinched at my soft words by shuffling slightly in their seat, biting their lip uncertainly as they dropped their gaze to their shoo laces before realizing their mistake and jumping their gaze up to me again, but the fear in their eyes was promising to the way the tables were set,

“I’ll do anything you want me to…”

Their words were spoken in a soft tone only a little above a whisper. Their green-grey eyes filled with the clear shadow of fear, barely masked by an attempt of confidence in the face of danger. They were cornered and they knew it, they had to do what we wanted if they wanted to live.

I turned to Ancap smugly, watching as he finally dragged his glazed eyed stare away from Ancom, his speckled yellow and gold eyes glittering manically. His lips were in a small almost hopeful smile, I’d never seen that face on Ancap, id barely recognized it on new recruits. It was filled with wonder and joy and hope. Hope was what bond most people together, it was somehow dreamlike or false drifting in Ancaps eyes. 

“So it is them.”

He was so calm his voice level and sugarcoated, it was so him. But his eyes were still filled with wonder. The world stood still for us three in that room. Ancom with their face obscured Ancap with his finally uncovered. They were alive. We thought for 2 years now we had lost them. But here they were. Alive. Shaking?

They were shaking again. Properly this time as though petrified with fear. I knew at that moment this was going to take a lot of getting used to. They stared at the floor and as I watched a droplet fell to their lap. I don’t do feelings. What am I meant to do with them? Another droplet. They were silent. Ancap still stared at me with wondrous eyes.

I stood up suddenly dragging my chair legs along the floor causing an ear defining screech as concrete and old wood grinding, the sound echoes around the enclosed space dizzyingly loud and disorienting. Both people looked at me with shocked and confused eyes. Ancom had tear tracks down their cheeks their eyes slightly puffy and red around the edges. I wasn’t entirely sure why id stood up but I couldn’t back down now.

I strode around the table purposefully, my heavy boots making an echoing clack on each step I took. I walked around so I once again stood face to face with Ancom. They looked up at me with unadulterated fear, dancing like the untamed flames of a forest fire reaching out to set ablaze any other life form around them.

“I am not going to hurt you. He would not dare to hurt you. You are safe.”

I spoke with my command voice, firm and unfeeling it left no room to argue, as we stared eye to eye, I was sick of the fear harbored in the small way they moved. I was sick of the uncertainty with which every word they spoke brought. And I was sick of not being able to help. Id knew them for about 12 hours or so. We had spoken once. They have no reason to fear me yet. Or Ancap foe that matter. He should actually like the kulak as he was one of the Nazi’s buddies.

But now they sat staring up at me with the same terrified gaze. The room was silent. Holding its breath. frozen. in the middle of the conflict Ancap laughed, that posh dry laugh he reserved for his capitalist buddies. But at that moment it was what was needed. 

With a gruff chuckle (that was more of a growl than a laugh) I went and sat down once more. Eyeing the other two suspiciously. 

“So why did you want to meet them, Kulack?”

My voice had returned to a boring relaxed tone and volume, as the room settled around me, finally seeming to breathe normally. Ancaps eyes sparkled brilliantly as he stared at Ancom with complete joy once more. For their credit, Ancom seemed pretty alright, sat staring across the table at us with big curious eyes it was clear they still held onto the pointless fear but now it seemed somehow greyer. The room was quiet as Ancap considered his response. He always does that, leave you hanging for an answer. Even something simple he will let a few seconds of consideration before saying anything.

“I thought they were lost.”

His final response was drab for all points of view although honest. They had been dead by many points of view. Their death had been a point of the morning, after… she had left a hole in my heart. And left other ideologies lost. She had been a beacon of hope in a battle fought to survive.

Now a new person had died for her case, a new person stood with her name. But they were the same in many ways.

“She was lost… they are holding of only her title.”

My response was flat, for all the joy knowing they were alive, it opened a new wound in my heart, the dust was moving in the light more animatedly, swirling in mini whirlpools or tornadoes spinning fervently around and around each other. 

“Just as he was lost, to her. At this point, I just like to know I have the spirit back.”

He smiled with his dazzling teeth and bright eyes, it was all so put on, sly, unauthentic. I forgot about him…   
I’d forgotten about them...

He was a good man, held the title for many years one of the longest standing Ancoms, but he had met his demise. Pity. a wast of a brave man. A wast of a useful distraction for the Kulak. But if he hadn’t left us I’d of never met…

Ancom stared at us with confusion, head still bowed slightly, drawn into themselves. The way they stared at us with such curiosity was sickeningly sweet. The manner of which their hair stood on end, the glow of their eyes. I missed Ancom, I missed the innocence and energy every new one brought, missed the spirit and the revolution and the energy. I missed her. I missed the trust and faith and…

I needed to get to know them again, id lost the joy shed given me a long time ago, vowed I’d never claim it again. Let someone else suffer the loss of brilliance. But now all I yearned for was the harbinger of hope I knew they truly were. The sparkle in their eyes, the power they could hold.

“What are you two talking about?”

Their voice was quiet once more, shacky and shy. The world was cruel to them, I could see it in their eyes and at that moment I wanted to hide it from them, protect them from the hellish loop we were forced to chase. Thay didn’t need to know any of their old names. Not now at least. But before I could brush it off, Ancap beat me to a response,

“We have a shitty world, you must know that.”

He eyed Ancom with a judgemental gaze lingering on their thin frame and ripped clothes, the scares and ugly purple and green bruise enveloping their face. His usually relaxed expression souring as he seemed to look deeper, teeth making a half-smile half grimace of rage,

“One of your men didn’t do that?”

He turned to me with incredulous stare, eyes wide and the slightest hint of something akin to vengefulness shadowing just beyond his glare. The room stood still around him like a brewing storm, he had seen the scars of the past on innocent skin before, hell he’d inflicted wounds worse before, but this was different. We both knew the rage that burned within him was sharp and vengeful and would destroy that which tries to quell it and that which has kindled it,

“Of chores not.”

My response was blasé and relaxed, I knew his rage would not be stopped just because this was my domain. When I’d first saw the damage I’d felt the same way rage blossoming from pity. The flickering shadow of rage still hung in his eyes but as he slowly nodded Ancom finally spoke up.

“He? hasn’t hurt me, none of his? men have…”

They were so small under both our gazes curling back in the car as though fearing being burned, biting their lip lightly right after phrasing the question/statement. The way they said ‘He?’ as though asking for permission or…

“He uses he/him pronouns, so do I. I suppose you need to tell us yours?”

Ancap was so flippant, as though this was par the course. He smiled a serpentine grin and looked expectantly at Ancom, there was something like recognition dawning on Ancoms face. We waited expectantly for a response. It was a new experience, I had no clue what was the big deal for all this and didn’t get why the other two were seemingly in a silent discussion.

Their eyes were locked in a war of wills. The fearful but stubborn grey, flickering ever so often to a warmer green, glaring down the golden pools rimmed with a darker lip, aching with confidence and charisma ready to, if needed, resist nonaggressively but very much forcefully.

Thankfully it didn’t come to that, Ancom dropped their gaze like a beaten child. Eyes fixed on the floor once more. The dust circling around them a cage of dust and unspoken words. It was quiet for a moment before they mumbled something into their chest,

“What was that darling? Youll have to speak up,”

Ancap was condescending but soft, as though not wanting to presser them too much but also wanting an answer.

“My name was Jay just Jay. I died on orders of the state, I was reborn. NAzi saved me, showed me what I did wrong with my life. Why it ended as it did...”

Their voice was flat and unfeeling, rehearsed and unmotivated, they weren’t ever going to have an easy answer. One of their own, one that wasn’t fed to them at least.

“So, I believe you want they/them pronouns? But Nazi said they were degenerate or whatever, so now you regurgitating his opinions because of,”

He gestured idly at the ugly patch of bruised skin covering their face. Grimacing as he watched them flinch back. The room seemed hotter as Ancom sat head bowed, silent. It was somehow louder in the silence, hearing every ruffle of Ancaps cote as he shifted to get a better view of Ancom, every slight scrape of soft rumble. We waited in the deafening silence.

No response.

Ancap nodded. Carmley looking at me. Then glancing down at his watch melodramatically,

“Time is money and I must be going but, I have decided to stop sales with the Nazies. Although that is of no relation to this meeting.”

He winked slyly at me before standing relaxed and composed he scooped his hat and sunglasses off the table.

“Of course I would like to stay in correspondence with our new... equating here.”

He flashed a shit-eating grin at me, eyes now covered by sunglasses. Nodding lightly at Ancom who was looking thoroughly confused and off-put by the eccentric capitalist scum’s mannerisms, 

“And do get them help. Hope to see you soon!”

He tagged the request on with a more urgent voice before flipping back to the upbeat weirdo, waving cheerfully with one hand while opening the door with the other.

Before I could say as much as a response he was gone. With a flourish of a well-tailored jacket and the flickering golden glow of obnoxious yellow area. the door clicking satisfyingly as it shut behind him and we were was just left still sat in our chairs. Their small innocent face curled back in confusion and anxiety. My stony ara of slight annoyance and confusion.

It was still so bright as I began to consider the next course of action. Ancap wants me to get them help. But for now?

This was going to be a lot of explanations, but Ancom looked upset and I couldn’t let them go back to the cell without an explanation...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't entirely sure how I was going to do this   
> getting from point A to point B is hard   
> never really done creative so this is still a learning experience  
> but I'm doing better with it I think? hope.
> 
> its a bit rushed at the end but it's done and I can move on with the...  
> ya


	5. Chapter 5

I sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of my crooked nose (I’d broken it -a few- times), with consideration. The blinding blistering light was giving me a headache, one that feels like a drill had been inserted into your skull and is slowly cracking you open, like a walnut. I watched as they shifted uncomfortably. The dust particles flickered green as they struggled to maintain eye-contact, dropping their heads, embarrassed as we sat in uncomfortable silence, all I could see was the top of their fluffy brown hair as it stood around unevenly but I could have sworn their neck was turning red.

“Ninel is going to kill me…”

I murmured gruffly, more to myself than to them, as I considered my options. They had proven to be completely harmless, unable (or unwilling) to fight back against any form of captivity. And although that may still be a ploy of the Nazi I knew that Ancom would never go against everything they stood for, they would never willingly take part in the Nazis heinous crimes, against everything they were meant to believe in. But then they were with the Nazi, they were working with -for?- him. Willingly or unwillingly, I knew what I wanted the answer to be, but I also know how that could blind my judgment.

The cracked concrete harboring so many forgotten men’s screams. the brash blinding light, drilling into the occupant’s soul. the dust particles drifting numbly, the pain they had seen. The room seemed to be blending together, all the pain it had cashed or held, to create a mind ripping cage of stressful options and sickening chance deafening silence, why can’t it just be simple? Why can’t it be black and white? They were an anomaly; they were literally grey and green. But… 

“She used to say I should take chances… I shouldn’t let my caution dictate my every move...”

They looked up once more, with big curious eyes, the bruise defining them, twisting their innocent face into something that held so much unfiltered pain. The scars framing them, seemingly defining them, telling a story of someone lost to cruelty, a history of cruelty painting their skin a Milkyway of bruises. I can’t let them suffer in the dark. I won’t let them be lost, again.

I’d made up my mind, I’d made up my mind before I had even considered the options. The room stopped and stood at attention, for the first time, not trying to curl in on itself crushing us. My head still pounded, screaming for release, but I didn’t care. I sighed heavily, filling the tense silence that dragged on between us. I stood up laboriously and went to the door, the room was small (about the size of an adolescent’s bedroom) so it only took a few paces. 

“Stay there. Do not move. I will be back.”

They froze like a statue. With those wide anxious eyes, hands frozen, stopping them from fiddling with their hoodie, and their shoulders raised slightly simmer to the defense mechanism of an abused cat. It was weird to look at, as though the world had frozen and I was looking at a clip shot of it. They’d stopped breathing. Stopped shifting. Stopped all motion.

“Do you understand?”

I was testing them, I knew it was cruel. But I wanted to know.

Their eyes went wide, scared, a caged animal faced with the electric rod. If they moved? If they didn’t? The threat was there without even instilling it. The fear was thick and suffocating. They didn’t know what I was looking for, so they improvised. 

With pleading eyes they very slowly nodded. Eyes fixed on my face, I remained stony and calm, with no reaction positive or negative. This seemed to embolden them as they moved slightly faster as they nodded a second time. Then a third and final noded, head snapping up as fast as possible to be statue still once more. Eyes fixed on me once more, a seeing statue. I knew they could stay still for hours, I’d seen it yesterday. Now I wondered if that was a learned skill.

“Good.”

Carm and collected I left the room, the door shutting behind me with the same strong and sturdy click. My guard still stood to attention in the corridor. Although her eyes seemed slightly misted, fucking Kulak screwing with my solder’ heads. But I’d already planned what I was going to say, and honestly didn’t cair at this point, not enough to say anything anyway,

“Sir!”

Her voice was hoarse and urgent, she was going to blather on about Ancap, about how he got away. It was of little concern to me though, Ancap fro all his shady and shitty attributes did uphold the bourgeoisie’s useless NAP, this was usually quite stupid as if all were equal no one would have a need for a NAP but I digress.

“Do not worry about the capitalist pig, I have a job for you.”

This caught her attention as all the mist plummeted from her eyes replaced with collected militarism. Her brown hair tied back in a neat orderly ponytail behind her head. She stood at attention justly.

“I have a message to be sent to Ninel. I and the prisoner are going to be at courtyard #2 I will be accompanying them there, no person will be entering the yard while we are there, we will have a guard posted at each door, tell the guards at the end of the hall to be at each door. If she protests, tell her I will talk after the meeting. You have about 15 minutes.”

The guard nodded curtly a neutral expression on her face, before turning and briskly walking down the corridor opening and closing the door at the end and disappearing. The door shutting ran up and down the corridor once more, the dim light lulling the burning headache slightly and the calm air was refreshing. And then I felt the watching walls once more. 

Sickened to my stomach, I turned back to the door. I took a deep breath to steady my racing mind. Ninel is going to kill me. She was head of internal defense and fiercely passionate about it, I never wanted to find out what her true wrath was. I dragged my mind away from that threat as quickly as possible. Concentrate on anything. The paint was peeling around the door, crumbling at the edges falling away to the floor revealing the concrete brick underneath. Tracks were imprinted into the carpet by both mine and the soldier's boots, discoloring it slightly. The light flickered making my shadow dance on the wall, ominous my broad shoulders and tall figure becoming something ghastly on the wall, crooked and off-putting

My nerves soothed slightly, I walked back into the room. Ancom was still frozen, like a statue, eyes fixed on the wall; but they stared so listlessly they seemed to see right through it, no one behind their gaze no spark within their shadowed eyes. just a robot, statue, puppet.

“You can move again.”

I said calmly, but on the inside, I was laughing at their commitment. They seemed not to ear me though -which was strange- carrying on their staring match with the wall. I walked over to them cautiously and leaned down next to their chair. 

“You can unfreeze now.”

I said it quieter as I was closer but not as flatly, letting some amused tone come into my voice. Still they were frozen. What was wrong with them? Were they dead? Slowly I moved a hand up to their shoulder, giving them ample tie to move away, but they stayed frozen. And then they weren’t, 

They lept back with fear crashing upon their face, throwing their chairs back and raising their arms to cover their upper body in defense. They cowered back shaking all over. I couldn’t see them beyond their raised arms, as they basically collapsed back into the corner, whimpering. A stream of apologies, punctuated by pleading for their life so fast I barely caught the few words that weren’t just blubbering nonsense. 

My heart stopped as they cowered, shaking trying to burrow themselves back into the wall. I watched as silver tears dripped down their cheeks, the purple bruise glistening agonizingly. How am I meant to deal with this? I’m not good at this at all. They were so small, so fragile. How could anyone do this to them?

I was glued to the ground, uncertain of what I was meant to do. The room was echoing with their pleading reverberating off the grey cracked concrete walls. Their pleading seeping into the gaps like so many others. I knew what I was meant to do but couldn’t figure out how to go about it. 

Staring at their quivering heap of apologies and tears snapped something in me. I hadn’t done this in years. But I felt something within me ordering I do it, pleading with me to do something, anything. Mabey the humanity in me subsisted after all these years. Slowly deliberately I lent down to the ground placing myself so I sat on my knees. The floor was ruff uneven, but all I could picture was the blood that had soaked it, in pools of sickening scarlet, shaking me to my core. But I can’t think about that now.

Carefully I edged forward, not wanting to startle them. My imposing frame was an issue for that, but if I looked unthreatening? Finally after about thirty seconds I was close enough to reach out to them. Their breathing was uneven, shallow and stressed their eyes as big as dinner plates. Cautiously I reached out my arms and once I was close enough, I grabbed them, pulling them into my chest. 

They were smaller than they used to be, skinnier, more fragile but the warmth in my chest was blossoming, blooming into soft coils of joy and uncertainty running up and down my whole body. They fit into my chest so comfortably as though they had been made to be there. I slowed my breathing down holding them close to my heart, I listened to their rattly heaving of barely suppressed sobs slow down, beginning to even out. They were warm. They were so warm. I never wanted to let go of them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while listening to really happy songs
> 
> and I'm looking forward to y'all meeting Ninel
> 
> and we gonna ~maybe~ explain Ancom's ability maybe...
> 
> I just want them to hug it out but then theirs no FuN in that <3


	6. Chapter 6

The room was still, the dust floating in the air illuminated a deep scarlet by me bright aura. I was warmed by the grey flickering bundle that made up Ancom, they were curled against my chest matching my deep breathing, shuddering on each exhale. The world was calm for just a moment as we huddled in the corner of the painfully bright room, hidden from the atrocities of the world. They were safe with me. They were never going to be lost again. 

The moments we remain pressed together, their head in the crook of my neck, my nose buried in their soft, curly brown hair, seemed to last millennia. I wouldn't have minded if it had, curling around them, the day-to-day world seemed so pointless, dull in comparison to their warmth and their presence and their energy. But they had been crying, and there were tear stains on my jacket, and they were squirming slightly. Devastatingly, the illusion of safety came crashing down sharp and painfully clear.

I had a job (I always had a duty to the people), they were to be told what was going on. They are not my Ancom, they may still be a threat if the situation was treated the wrong way. I released them quickly at that thought. Shuffling a few inches back from them, as they fumbled around until they could pull themselves into a sitting position, blending in with the floor. I have a job to do, I have to act as an ambassador. I have to get them on our side. We need to win the war, the marks on their skin were proof of that requirement. If the Nazi dose that to his own solder, opposite ideologically, or not. What would he do to his perceived enemy? Knowing everything they could tell us was the first step.

I stood up confidently, not acknowledging them yet, needing to put on a show of relaxed confidence, closing out a strange situation all around with an unfazed attitude, gives legitimacy, I can deal with anything they can trust me. I brushed off my suit a single rock tapping on the floor gently while removing any trace of the strange euphoria I felt while holding them out of my system, that needed to be inspected further later. My face was set in a neutral expression as though we had just exchanged greetings, most certainly not recognizing how I’d held them, listened to them sob, listen to them beg for their life. My scarlet glow was dulling down, letting the blood bathed walls return to their bright sickeningly sliced picture of unforgiving grey.

They were staring at me from the cold concrete floor, an expression on their face similar to a dazed man, after a shell had been dropped, but somehow more lost. more dejected, anxious. Broken? 

Yeah, they looked broken, more than anything: The recently spun trails of tears lighting up their battered cheek; eyes puffy around the edges, bloodshot and scared achingly raw where the bruise clawed across their cheek; their lips were parted in a long slow exhale and they had already lifted their knees to their chest curling in on themselves. They were so small and pitifully and weak. I felt a bubble of something raise up in my chest.

“We are going to the courtyard.”

My voice was flat, authoritative, unwavering. As the bubble in my chest burst into a thousand colors of confusing emotion. But the world will listen to my voice, heed my orders. I have to be calm, the people stood behind my voice, behind their state. I couldn’t let any emotions slip through the cracks. But they stared up at me from the stone floor eyes wide with fear, they began to shift as though trying to get away from me. Wiggling, shuffling, they were set back into motion, like a ball of anxiety had taken control. Driving them forward,

“P- please… please,”

Their voice was small, weak and wavering, with the same desperate energy they had used when begging for their life. The grey around the room began to flickering darker and darker grey, almost overpowering my red. The dust particles still painfully lit by the blistering bright light, danced around us like a tornado as they began again

“Please, I’ll do anything… please, I’ll be good, I’ll do better.”

Why were they talking like that? Their voice shaking, as they struggled to get even further away from me, curling back into the wall. Shacking once more, hoodie folded around them. They were silently crying once more, tears traced down their cheeks renewing the silver lines. I couldn’t do anything in fear of getting them even more upset. What had I done wrong? Time seemed to slow down to a snail’s pace once again, but this time something strange happened. 

Their mournful grey glow began darkening, curling out from the corners of the room, it grew like thick tendrils of some misshapen many-armed beast. The dark grey glow filled up the room thickly, like the smoke from the deepest pits of hell. It slowly seeped into each crevis in the walls, curling up the table legs and around the chairs, enveloping everything in the small concrete room, pressing in on us, filling everything else. It began clawing around me and Ancom, coiling around us seeping into my mouth and nose and lungs, darkness chocking me with its thick oppressive heat, filling me with an uncontrollable sense of despair, loss of every emotion bar a sinking devastating feeling. Like the mournful acceptance of bad news, it filled my lungs dragging me down heavily weighing on my spirit my soul…  
The smoke cleared, they were huddled back pressing into the wall, slumped. Their head bowed buried in their ragged hoodie, eyes shut lightly. No emotion on their face, void of fear, void of bravery, just acceptance…

The smoke may have gon but the sense of despair and acceptance of the worst fate imaginable hung on. Clinging to every fiber of my being. I must be strong. I must be strong. The command ran around my head. Calm, strict, an order to fulfill without question. But the way they huddled, slumped done with this torment with this never-ending barrage of fear. The despair wouldn’t release me from its grasps as I stared at the bundle. They did that. They felt that. They were made of that sorrowful smoke and listless despair,

“Do your worse. I can accept my death, it’ll make no difference. It’ll release me from this hell...”

They were so calm, a far cry from the blubbering mess I had held, begging for their life, now they accepted death as a blessing. But why? Why do they think I’d kill them? I had no reason to? The blistering lightroom swam around behind my eyes, as I tried to understand beyond the sinking feeling that had filled my chest. How am I supposed to react to that? They were slumped against the wall, head pressed into the stone eyes shut.

“Why are you saying this?”

My voice was softened slightly, as I lent down to them once more, they were quivering, like an abused dog. But their eyes opened to lock with mine in utter confusion as they stilled solidly,

“You said we’re going out to the courtyard...”

They whispered courtyard as though it was the worst place on earth, and if even mentioned it would trigger some sort of punishment. But the conviction in their eyes said it all, this was no joke, something was very wrong. The spinning room slowed slightly the dark feeling began to ebb from my soul.

“Yes? The courtyard has natural light? I have a headache?”

My voice was still clear but now tittered on the edge of uncertainty, as I stared into their unwaveringly gaze. Darkness glowing in those grey-green orbs. Now a small frown split their rounded expression, dazzling dust floating around them distractingly as the dark grey that still lurked in the corners of the room began to seep back from the grip they had on the crevices.

“But… but the…”

They trailed off with a confused expression, finally breaking the eyes contact and drifting their gaze off to the side. It was strange seeing them so deep in thought, the face I’d almost exclusively saw terror and resignation etched into each crevis and scar, break out with a multitude of minuscule detail and consideration. It was…  
New.

“The courtyard is only 5 minutes from here, and as I said, I have a headache.”

I smiled slightly trying to give levity to the situation. They stared up at me with big untrustful eyes. Behind their gaze, a war was raged, but I couldn’t tell what they were thinking, the dust that had tornadoes around us now began to glow, grey to green to grey to a vivid and undisputable ray,

“How do I know you’re not gonna shoot me?”

Cation was another new one, not quite fear, but close. The eyes of a person who had seen so much felt pain and suffering so deep it had almost crushed me. The eyes of a strong person. The eyes of the people’s uncalculable spirit. I recognized the eyes, they glowed tiny symbols appearing within their irises and across their pupal the black A flickering out from the green trying not to be crushed by the grey edges. They were glowing bright green. Lighting the room so dazzlingly it overpowered my red easily. They were strong. So so strong. The tracks of tears washed away like 

“Even if you were to be executed it would not be by my hand. But I do not have proof beyond my word. It is promised upon the words of the people.”

My response was calculated once more, the game had begun again, now with an opponent wise to my moves and one who was possibly my equal. The room seemed to hold its breath waiting for their response to my counter. It was going to be an experience. Working with this powerful force. I began to understand id been dealing with a small fraction of the power they held, the darkness was just one part of it,

“The people will do what they want, no state can tell us what to think or feel. But I need answers,”

They spat out the first part as though what I’d said was offensive to all they stood for, which I suppose it was, but they bowed their head when accepting their need for answers, they began to rise, shakily as they rested their weight on the wall for a moment. the glow still emanating powerfully as they stood up straight, a mask of calm and power upon their face. They were so small, but the energy thrumming off them in waves told me this was someone you don’t want to piss off. 

But as they drew in a deep breath the glow ebbed sputtering out like a flam that had run out of wick. Their eyes were taken over by the grasping clawed hand of grey and their body language changed. They curled in on themselves defensively. Eyes shifting uncertainly.

“Ok. we go now.”

My voice was level with any other time I had spoken, but this time they seemed extra sensitive, flinching away from me like I was going to hit them.

“Ok…”

They said barely audible, as I went to the door. They walked tentatively behind me catios to keep a distance, that can’t happen, I waited for them to come closer, our gazes locked, they slowly shuffled forward, the eye contact continued another half step we were locked in a war of will, and although their display of anarchy had been impressive, no one can outdo the massive power held by the state, when we were in a war of wills. Finally, they took the third step forward, wincing like being in my proximity could hurt them, but they remained still by my side, not trying to move away the second I turned to grab the handle. Looking at them with strong eyes I opened it. Dust was spun out as we stepped into the corridor dimmer and less clear than it had been in the room but it still danced around in a disorganized storm, immediately they began shifting anxiously, it made me uncertain if they would run the second they got the chance, I immediately went with my gut instinct (like a dumbass). I grabbed their wrist with a firm grip, locking around their bony arm enveloping them with one hand.

The small squeak that they emitted was another new experience, it was quiet but lingered in the air. They went a deep scarlet as I stared at them held them still. Embarrassed. The hallway was the same as every other but I was already worrying they map the building, so I went an unorthodox route. Brushing off the reaction like it was dust on my shirt I began to walk, the opposite direction from the courtyard, the long way round. Ancom stumbled along behind me tripping over their feet in confusion as they began to desperately try keeping up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, this wasn't out yesterday. 
> 
> I'm trying to get about 2,000 words per chapter in this book  
> but it sometimes makes me want to not post something unless it has hit the target  
> this would have been out yesterday but now it has all the words
> 
> we might meet Ninel next chapter!
> 
> please tell me if I get anything gramma/spelling/pronouns wrong!  
> That's the way I can learn!


	7. Chapter 7

We walked for a few minutes, in complete silence. The sounds of my boots echoing up and down the corridor and their occasional muffled sound of protest, as I dragged them along a little to fast or a little too ruffly, acting as the only sound punctuating the barren silence. It was comforting in a way, dulling my head, making me actually think for the first time about what had actually happened over the past hour or so. 

Door, corridor, left, back, door, corridor, left, right, door, corridor, door, corridor, right, corridor, right. 

We walked like that, silents, long and strained. Heavy with curiosity, anxiety but there was no animosity. No rage anymore. Just a dull strained sense of distrust. What had happened? It all felt a bit surreal. A bit like an act, put on for entertainment. I dragged them through another door and heard a muffled thud, turning back I saw them holding their head with their free hand and looking at me with big apprehensive eyes, they immediately drooped their gaze, tracking their eyes on the floor uncomfortably, as I looked at them concerned if they had hurt themselves,

“Are you ok? You hit your head.”

My question was blunt and to the point, just as I always was outside of the safety of quarters or meetings. My voice reverberated up and down the deserted corridor, bouncing off the stained white walls, coiling into the exposed wires. The dim lights flicked softly above us, as Ancom tried to recoil from my booming voice wincing. I looked at them apologetically before returning to my display.

“You are going to walk in front of me. I can’t have you get hurt,”

I also knew that if they walked in front of me I could hold them by the shoulder and they could still not be able to getaway. Slowly they nodded at the floor, still wincing from my voice. They shuffled forward till they stood in front of me at a weird angle (their wrist was still being held in my vice grip). I let go of them and immediately grabbed them by their shoulder, they stiffened in once more, but they didn’t relax they stayed rigid in my grip.

We carryed on them being marched, down corridor after corridor, through door after door. A dizzying number. A safe number. They couldn’t track it at this point. No one could. The walls we walked past were no different from each other, the door identically built and chipped. They were being dragged the long way around ten minutes of walking and we had gone a short distance, but at least they couldn’t tell you where we are.

Finally we reached the door, a guard already stood at it, poised for an attack as he eyes Ancom distrustfully. The door to the outside courtyard was different from the normal doors. Its frame was a slightly darker shade and it was a double frame, a single window in each door covered by iron bars, slowly rusting. 

We walked p to the solder, I nodded once to them before going though, they were only a few inches shorter than me, so they also towered over Ancom, eyeing them with suspicion made them sink further into the ground, trying to hide from prying eyes by averting their own gaze. We walked through the doors without issue. 

The courtyard was often referred to as the ‘most colorful place in the complex’ although there were other green places, the courtyard was the heart of the natural ire, some organized chaos to soothe the nerves of organized soldiers’ lives. 

Although it was regularly cut and organized the branches had a mind of their own, growing out and up in unorthodox patterns and looping together to make hidden spots. The courtyard was also very large, like half a rugby pitch big. The wild bushes and the array of wildflowers gave the walled-in space a natural wild feeling. 

The air was fresh and crisp as we wandered into the grasping leaves, becoming walled in and hidden from the outside world. Immediately I dropped my grip on their shoulder. The windows above us couldn’t see anything beyond the branches, we were safely hidden within the branches. We walked for a few minutes in a strange silence, floating on the edge of uncomfortable but not quite so. The rustle of leaves filling the space where a conversation would have been, giving a reassuring whisper to the darkness of the unknown, unchartered territory of explanation. 

Finally we reached a stopping point. A bench in the middle of a particularly thick weave of vines, the light of the sun skinking through the gaps easily warming my skin as I sat down collectin myself before opening the conversation,

“I must make this clear off the bat, I will not be sharing critical information with you, what I will be doing is giving clarity on the situation, possible points in the past and what I am possibly going to be doing.”

My opening may seem harsh but it lays the ground rules, what I’m willing to share and not willing what the floor is for their questioning, everything is clear. But they looked at me with confused eyes, still standing awkwardly, they looked down at me grey eyes, 

“Can- can I sit down?”

They were so timed as they asked, uncomfortable still, a simple request but why should they have to ask? The trees rustled behind me, but I felt no breeze as I looked at them for a fraction of a heartbeat too long, the world was sputtering slightly as I tried to figure out how to form words, the bubble in my chest returning once more, not able to be buried anymore, but instead clogging up my thought tracks, finally I answered

“Of course you can. It is the people’s bench!”

They wrinkled their eyes narrowed ever so slightly at my words, but sat down with some caution, crossing their legs and leaning back tipping forward once more, the ghost of a smile on their lips as they closed their eyes warmed by the sun.

“So… I can ask just about… anything?”

They asked quietly, opening their eyes to look at me apprehensively, although the shadow of joy lit up the crevasses of their face. Like tiny spots of sunlight. The tinge of green beyond their eyes was beginning to grow once more,

“Yes, as long as it remains within the framework, I will answer your questions to the best of my ability.”

The corners of their lips lifted up slightly, as they stared at me for the first time, doe eyes glittering in the dim light beautifully, still slightly puffy from the cry earlier. The bruise across their face no less brash and vile, shining out in the natural light like a beacon of the past, brandished on their skin. Their legs were crossed, their hands on their knees and they were leaning back again, into the bush, eyes still fixed on me. The green glow was soothing, blending in with the bushes, seeping into each nook and cranny of the environment. Glittering around us like a winter mist on a new morning, just before snowfall.

“Ok…”

They began, spinning on the bench with a bit of effort, to look at me with those big soft eyes, the winter air glitter still clinging to their gaze as they looked at me curiously, considering. The world was soothed by their meer presence, their glow was enthralling, enticing and inquisitive. It was clear they had been through so much, but they still held that childlike curiosity and innocence.

“I can ask you…”

They began before trailing off, with a considerate frown, they were still lost in this meditative state of thought, it was so new and rich with expression, their world lost to their wondering mind. The bushes around us rustled, whispering to each other as I waited for them to begin their questioning. They nodded and shook their head as they stared into some far off place of thought, not seeing me anymore, as they considered and reconsidered, mulling over unvoiced thoughts in their mind.

I stared at the bench beneath us, waiting still, it held no shape to it beyond the ordinary rectangular square, like a lot of our architecture, it was concrete and was made to last an age, but it was crumbling at the edges, from being out in the unpredictable weather conditions. I waited patiently for their start, but they seemed determined to start with a good question. 

So we sat for a few minutes longer, listening to the whispers of nature and waiting. Finally they leaned forward, eyes fixed on me with set concentration.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

They were so serious, staring at me with a cold expression, a calculating expression. I considered my response, the whispers of bushes around us filling me with half-truths, lies, words to comfort. I pushed them away and answered as I had promised I would, ‘to the best of my ability.’

“I went with a gut instinct. You could be useful to me. And having one of the Nazi’s soldiers deposit the last bullet in his skull, would be satisfying.”

It was what I’d first thought when meeting them, in the cell. Grey. they hadn’t been my Ancom they hadn’t been anyone, just a soldier, a pet. I wasn’t going to tell them about the other reasons I kept them alive unless they asked for confirmation, of course. I could withhold the truth for the moment, hold onto my misplaced pride.

They looked at me quizzically as they considered my response chewing on their lip as they processed my response. 

“You kept me, not because I’m an ideology, you kept me because you went with your gut? My life relied upon a gut instinct?”

They didn’t seem upset, or even shocked really. just contemplative. Staring off into that place, they’d been lost in when developing their question, beyond our world, somewhere deeper into their mind. The world around us darkened slightly, their green dimming, dipping back into a greyer tone but still clinging to the warmer color, wrapping into the branches defiantly.

“Well… when we first met, all I knew was you worked with the Nazi… you didn’t put up a fight, you were compliant… you made yourself useful?”

I was going in circles, not giving too much away, I wanted to answer their questions, I didn’t want to create more of them so I was being cautious in what I was saying. But that didn’t seem to satisfy them. The glow getting darker once more. The air around us was becoming cold, they were still facing me crossed legs, but now uncertainty glittered just behind their eyes,

“Would you kill me if I wasn’t useful, anymore?”

Shit. shit shit shit. No, I wouldn’t, of course, I fucking wouldn’t, I promised her I would protect her successor, as she would protect mine. But I can’t tell them that without, telling too much. I wasn’t ready for that, it was fresh once more in my mind like an old scar.

The seconds ticked on as I struggled for an answer. The air was static as they waited for my response, steely resolve glaring at me with the toughened eyes of a forgotten solder. Just as they began to seem resigned that my response would be yes, I blurted out the flattest response I had ever given

“I wouldn’t kill you.”

They looked at me with expectant eyes, but slowly they realized that was all I would be saying. Finally they slumped back, looking at the bench in front of them, thinking. The small ticks that had appeared earlier were melted away as they sat still as a statue.

“What will you be wanting me to do?”

They didn’t look at me as they asked, neutral expression lacking any emotion to their voice or body language. The air was stale, the refreshing feeling from earlier gone, it felt as though we were once again in a silent war. But finally, they looked at me. 

I closed my eyes when they looked at me for a long second, I trusted they wouldn’t try to kill me in the 3 beats I had my eyes closed. I considered, what do I want them to do? The cool air beating on my face still stale, but not stuffy. Just uncomfortably oppressive on my lungs.

“I want you to tell us… how we can defeat the Nazi. ”

Well, that’s what I wanted them to do, really I want them to be ok, to move on and join my revolution. To forget the scars on their skin. To join me once again. But I can’t tell them that. I’m an ambassador. It is my duty to my people and state to get from them what was necessary for our continued survival.

I stared at the flowerbed opposite us, its blood-stained reds and bright oranges clashing with cyans and deep purple all leaping out in the courtyards signature organized chaos. The sun had been setting for a while, natural light still seeping in but it was getting darker, although it didn’t really matter, our auras were bright enough to light a space, although it was incredibly hard to begin sleeping while -basically- leaving a light on, one that you could never turn off. It took all my might not to look at them while they processed my response taking what they said as it came, not looking that their prosses

“I guess I know something…”

They began tentatively, their greying arura brightening once more to only a pale grey-green glow. The world held its breath at that moment, they might know something we could use. The excitement growing in my chest was unmistakable. This might be a breakthrough.

“And what might that be?”

I remained level headed as I slowly turned my head, away from the flower beds, but on the inside, I was celebrating. Even if it was something we already know, the will tell me about the Nazi’s secrets, they must have some form of faith in me.

But before they could say anything we heard a clear rustle of leaves, the unmistakable sounds of something/someone approaching us through the brush, nun too cautiously. 

“Authoritarian left!”

an enraged and clear females voice, ringing through the plants, 

“What the FUCK are you thinking?”

She was pissed. Dangerously pissed. Like ‘I will rip your throat out’ pissed. I don’t wanna have this conversation here. I don’t wanna have this conversation ever. But she was here now. And she was angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that was fun,
> 
> I feel like I've been hoping her up so much and y'all gonna hate Ninel,
> 
> but I like me a bit of a bitch so whatever
> 
> I wasn't sure how to do the questioning part,  
> (if you couldn't tell)  
> so I kinda just threw words at the page and hoped it worked out  
> I think it went, if not well then, ok-ish
> 
> pleas tell me if I have got anything wrong be it spelling/gramma/pronouns   
> as this is the way I improve <3
> 
> Thx for reading <3


	8. Chapter 8

The branches to the right of us opened up around her, whipping back with fast sharp movements, sharing in her rage. The hollow echoed with her boot fall, the cracked cobbles bending beneath her, the courtyard was scared of the enraged spirit glowing within her. I was scared of her wrath. She was the face of righteous anger.

“Socialism!”

I exclaimed with what I hoped would mask my clear discomfort and fear. She was short, only really reaching mid-chest on me but she was fucking terrifying. curly brown hair cut short for convenience, her usually warm motherly face turned to one filled with rage. The firey protectiveness glittering in her eyes turned on me with clear and crystalline intensity. She was the most terrifying person I’d ever met, with all her motherly personas, she was powerful.

“How dare you!”

She yelled with a frenzy of tones, some concerned, some filled with shock flabbergasted at my actions. But the most prevalent emotion was rage. The rage of endangerment, the rage against my brash unthought through action. The power stored in her voice pushed a shockwave out of thin air, her rage exemplifying her skill immensely, it was fitting really she had been a suffragette, fighting for her rights in an unjust system, built by idiotic capitalists.

It had been 1915 when she’d met her untimely demise, a single woman her family turned their backs on her but she still fought the inequitable system with this fiery rage, I was faced with, a cascade of her unfiltered energy. Now her voice could literally move people with her emotion, her status as an ideology letting her be the person she had wanted to be in life, a strategist, a soldier.

“What were you thinking?”

Her voice was so powerful, I was almost pushed off the bench backward, luckily I braced for the intensity of a verbal lashing she would be delivering. Ancom, on the other hand, wasn’t as lucky, they were pushed off the bench, hitting their head on the concrete as they fell down, back onto the cold unforgiving embrace of the floor. They fell in what seemed like slow motion, twisting wildly before making contact with the stone and then nothing. Once they curled on the floor, tucking their head into their chest and moving their knees up to their chest, they stopped moving. I couldn’t tell if they were even breathing. Still as the earth beneath them. As ragged as a pile of discarded leaves small like a child’s body.

Ninel’s eyes went wide as she stared at the bench. They were hidden behind it beyond her line of vision. The world went silent as we both processed what just happened. We turned back to each other in confusion. The rustling of leaves filling the silence as we waited for the other to decide what to do.

I was the authority here, she may be pissed right now but Ancom could be dead. But before I could stand up she spoke quite similarly to the way she talked to new recruits, 

“Well this is a pickle. I can’t really yell at you now, but your not off the hook… let me look at… them?”

The rage seemed to have melted away from her as she turned to me with those alert caring eyes. The rustling of branches had stopped abruptly, not having her stimulating their agitated motion, lying limply as the world zoned in on the small bundle curled on the floor, seemingly unconscious.

“Yes... we should check them out.”

I was slow to prosses to what was going on, but where my main brain function failed my body’s automatic piolet was good to fulfill its duty. Climbing over the bench carefully so as not to step on their fragile form, my daunting combat boots seeming somehow even more threatening beside their small torso. I crouched down next to their bundled form, my huge hands slipping under their neck to touch their throat to see what their pulse was at.

The telltale beats of frantic heartbeats danced wildly beneath my fingers. slowly I drew way with the stiff motions of a busy mind trying to piece together a coherent sentence, word, anything?

After a few seconds of silent struggle I managed a stung out sentence, desperate for her to do something to help them.

“They have pulse.”

My only remark before turning to her for direction blindly, still desperate for her to help them. The lights were still dimming, but now with both our red glows and their extremely pale grey (almost white) aura the small space seemed better lit than it had been earlier with them.

“Get them out here so can work them.”

She sounded impatient, looking at me with raised eyebrows, she was pissed. But her tone and irritation did one good thing, it snapped me out of the stupor caused by my utter confusion. Quickly I lent down scooping them up for a second time into my chest, they were still so small, the memory of their warmth coming back fresh in my mind ad they were curled in my arms.

Carefully I stepped over the crumbling concrete slab, masquerading as a bench, to reach her without much issue. Cradling their fragile form close to me, I forgot for a moment she was there. So lost in the reassuring presence of their even intake of breath.

A sharp cough broke my contemplation, shattering the illusion of privacy. I turned a darker red before bending down so as not to look at her. Placing them on the uneven floor wincing at the way they moved around them uncomfortably.

The sharp intake of breath I heard deepened my worry as I looked up at her, she was staring at their small battered face in horror. Ow yeah, she hadn’t seen that…

hadn’t seen the scars that littered their skin, heard their quiet voice begging for their life. The way she stared at the bruise with horror glittering within her gaze moved me to action

“Help them!”

My voice was sharp and blunt, she looked at me with horror in her eyes. The world around us froze, ice-cold as she stared straight into my soul.

“Did you do this? Did I do this?”

Her voice was so quiet, far from its usual softness she imployed, no motherly air to quell the anxiety, it was more scared and uncertain. Small. The self-assured nature buried beneath a mound of uncertainty and distrust and guilt. Guilt plaguing her gaze like the tainted earth, infertile for the harvest, for the people’s sustenance. Why did she think I did this? How could she have done it? She was irrational blaming herself for some unknown cause, but they looked so broken on the earth. Who could hurt them? 

“NO. now help them, they could be dying.”

My voice was as cold and commanding as the officer that had once used it. The world bowing beneath my boot. But deep down I was shaking with anxiety fear for them wracking my soul. Her eyes fixed on me, the red eyes, softening behind them as she nodded, she understood, well not understood but respected. She was wearing military garb but it was loos and relaxed. Letting her move more freely within its lapels, hiding her hands often to others detriment. 

She would never let her people get hurt, a mother of the left army. She bent down, in one sweeping motion maneuvering their body to be laying less crumpled, less like a ragdoll, stretching them out so they weren’t so small, this had the opposite effect sadly. although when she tried pulling them out entirely, exposing their entire form to her prying gaze, they immediately curled and violently jerked back, a subconscious attempt to hide away from her ruff hands gentile touch, like it was a hot poker. When they’d done that, she had just looked at them pityingly. 

It was sickening in a strange way, as though I was reproachful of her caring actions taken for them (which I definitely wasn’t, my frayed nerves soothed at her confidence and relaxed nature) it was just I felt they deserved credit, even though all the shit clearly they were put through they were alive. Sort of.

Her light toches and gentile motions still drew anxious twitches from the unconscious person. Their face contorted in strange new expressions as they tried to defend themselves even when unconscious. It was an array of fear and disgust and something I had seen more than I was willing to admit rage. rage against something you could do nothing about. Rage for a situation dancing out of your control. Rage against all that was wrong with mankind. Rage.

I’d seen it reflected in my own eyes hundreds of times. Glaring back at me through mirrors or glass or any reflective surface. Darkening the lines in my brow, shining threateningly through my eyes, staring restlessly back at me through the turn in my mouth. The world around us was getting colder, the sun was barely lighting the area beyond our combined auras. We were slowly being swallowed by the seeping darkness, closing in on us like the tide dragging in and out, on a deserted shore of some far off-island. Uninviting, void. A wave of shadow.

“Their ok might be concussed. Scratch that, definitely. they hit their head hard on the stone.”

She was looking them over once more with those calculating eyes she reserved for disciplinary action. Evaluating the merits and fallings within their character, you weren’t able to hide from her scrutiny, once it turned on you. The air was almost cold now, it was going to be a lung stinger tonight, even seasoned guards may find it harder, but we all had our duties. She zoned in once more on their face with reignited morbid curiosity and that glitter of guilt.

“So do we have an explanation for the bruise?”

She seemed almost unwilling to hear the answer, the way her red eyes dulled slightly, the strong woman that had fought for her rights crumbling at the idea of suffering. She tried desperately to give all people a platform, to hear all opinions at face value. But that glitter in her eye reminded me, she was a terrifying person.

“They worked for the Nazi, or at least that’s the way I would like to see it, I suppose... They were always at his shoulder. Don’t you remember? The grey person trailing behind him, we always thought was a servant of some sort, maybe a bodyguard, covering their face with the bandana. When they came to us… they said the Nazi won’t come to get them.”

No emotion was left in her eyes, drained as she stared back at their small figure, bundled on the floor uncomfortably. We towered over them, they were so small, our boots so close to stepping on them, crushing them in one sharp motion.

“You shouldn’t have brought them here.”

She was so calm, eyes cold and unfeeling. She wasn’t looking at them anymore, looking away as if degusted by them or herself. She had looked at the void nothingness, swallowed by the advancements of night. her eyes slowly narrowing before turning to me. That expression I recognized so often glaring at me with renewed intensity.

“They worked for the Nazi. it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t want them. They shouldn’t be here. They could still be working for him. Lying. Did you ever consider they could be lying?”

She was getting riled up once more, turned away from the small creature on the floor to rise up at me. the shortly postponed tidal wave of rage now blaring down on me with its full power.

“They could be anyone! They could be lying. Like honestly some grey ideology with a small timid persona? They could be any one of the missing ideologies. They could be a centrist! You brought this threat into our base main area, first meeting with Ancap! Ancap! And then holding an unorganized private meeting with a possible aggressor to discuss god knows what. You could have got men killed! You could have been killed. We need a strong leader. Not some reckless idiot blundering their way into dangerous situations, that’s what the Nazis want. They want disorganization. This could be their plot. You’re being senselessly dangerous!”

She paused to take a breath, seething with a new wave of rage. The darkness threatened to set in on us both and the world seemed to be teetering on the edge of two challenges. I was forced to face the thunder but now it was crackling around me it seemed even worse than I’d expected.

“They are known. They are Ancom. They don’t know why we have them alive and they’re scared.”

My voice is flat, pressed of emotion pressed of authority, just the lingering of a resigned spirit and lost will to fight.

“I understand you are angry but this cannot be dealt with later?”

I was desperate to get away from this. But she seemed to resist all attempts to close down the conversation.

“So their Ancom?”

She sounded shocked in an insultingly long glance at their small form, she raised an eyebrow and looked back at me. The darkness still glaring at us through the edges of my vision. Like judgemental eyes from the pits of hell.

“Are we just taking their word for it? Or is this based on anything? Even if they are Ancom we should be still trying to figure this out.”

No. this can’t go on. My head was swimming. The world was closing in. I stayed strong on the outside. But before I could respond they sturred and sat up slowly swaying on their spindly arms. They curled beneath their hoodie as they struggled to gain a lucid state, still slipping at the slightest resistance.

“What?”

They were so quiet I would have missed it, looking up at us with those big innocent eyes. The darkness now began to close in creeping closer to us. But it resembled smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright this was a bit all over the place
> 
> I love Ninel as a character because...  
> mom. idk. just like I'm sorry if she doesn't pay for the hype.  
> I just like her as a character
> 
> sorry this is a bit janky I was writing but struggled at getting from point a to point b   
> gotta get better at that...
> 
> please tell me about any mistakes that is the way I learn <3


	9. Chapter 9

The cold rage in her eyes melted once again as she spun neatly on her heel. giving her full attention back to Ancom. The black smoke circled us like a predator, ready for an attack. Neither of them from what I could gather had noticed. She bent down slowly so as she was almost eye level, looking at them with an evaluating gaze.

“How are you feeling?”

Her voice was, once again, that soft motherly tone, her eyes, although still concerned, were not the angry flame, dancing threateningly they had once been, and neither were they the cold tundra of mistrust. She was caring once more, careful and kind and her.

“Umm… my head hurts?”

They mumbled barely above a whisper as they looked uncomfortably from me to her, the grey in their eyes dull and sickening. As they stared at me deep into my soul. The leaves beyond the darkness whispered warnings went unnoted by us three as we tried to get them to lay flat once more.

“Sweety, you need to stay still for a few more moments, while we evaluate if you’re ok.”

Her voice was soothing but firm, as she delicately placed a hand on their chest, pushing them lightly down from where they had been propped up on their elbows. The darkness still prowled at the edges of my vision as I stood still staring down at the two. It was sickeningly dark, the memories of that chocking gas filling my lungs, I watched them with a blank expression. I can’t be seen as weak. I can’t be weak. I am a leader. I can’t be weak. Over and over I recited to myself a pray for strength a prey of weakness.

“Now can you breath in very slowly for 8 seconds, follow me.”

The was soft with her words as she locked them in with strong unwavering eye contact. They nodded slightly still laying on the floor curled in but flatter now they were lucid. Seeming more willing to do as wished, instead of protectively rebuking any attempt of maneuver.

Ok breath in her voice was soft as she began to breath in, counting on her short ruff hands, the scars of blisters of hard work, the soft veins etching a history of fighting for her rights, she had a ring on her finger that glowed rosy under her own blush glow. She counted to 8 maintaining sturdy eye contact, the darkness swirled at the edges of my vision. threateningly.

“Hold it for 7.”

Her voice was muffled from trying to hold the breath in, the anxiety within me ebbed slowly. She counted on her fingers one more 7 beats. 

“Now exhale slowly for 4 seconds.”

She was calm eyes fixed, staring at them as they breathed out slowly letting their small frame become more relaxed. The swirling smokie cloud encircling us ebbed enough to see the leaves of the shrubbery around us once more. They repeated the exercise never breaking eye contact. Until the cloud had all but dissipated. Once we were in a safer state of emergency, she nodded gently.

“Alright sweetie… what was your name?”

Nanie was strange about names, she always insisted on using my first name when in private, and basically insisted on her name in any situations bar ideology based meetings and council, where she had grudgingly allowed us to use her ‘show’/’performance’ name.

“That’s complicated…”

They murmured as they struggled back onto their elbows. Their face contorting slightly as they lent against the rocks and gravel, feeling it dig into their skin. How did they survive under the Nazi? The question was whispered into my ear like some misgiving murmur, I knew why they survived, they were strong. But they would have been killed by the Nazi on sight. No ideology would willingly work with their opposite unless it was mutually beneficial. Or in Nazis’ case it was beneficial to him. But them being so weak? Well to the Nazi they would be weak. What was it that had kept them alive?

“Dear, I’m asking your name, not some washed-up ideology, not some useless title, who were you before all this? My name is Ninel, I represent Socialism, as Borya so kindly introduced.”

She shot me a quick good-humored glare. Before turning back to them with earnest curiosity dancing in her eyes the warm glow of her aura lit up the area, I felt slightly out of place towering over the pare. I contemplated going over to the bench but thought it was in bad taste, so I sat down slowly lowering myself to the rocky ground, crossing my legs and looking at them with an expression of bord curiosity.

Ancom looked at me for a few long moments, eyes fixed on me with this unreadable expression as they contemplated me. Before ripping their attention back to Ninel and biting their lip. To her credit she didn’t mention their laps in attention just waited patiently for their focus to be back on her the threat level evaluated and stifle the fear that lurked in their eyes even they were calm.

“My name was Jay… just Jay. I died.”

They looked lamely at her, they were firm with their name but when they said they died their voice went flat, they stared at the ground grey eyes murky with a form of grief that was ever-present. I’d seen that grief in solder’ eyes, they came back the only living man in their corp, they came back a hero. But they lost what had made them strong.

“That’s a lovely name jay… I’m extremely sorry for knocking you off the bench”

Her voice was laced with guilt as she added the apology on, anxiously wringing her hands as she stared at them with those remorseful flames dancing in her eyes reserved for when something really bad had happened and she was acting as a mediator, like a curfew break or authorization misplacement. 

“I don’t mind… I’ve had worse…”

They were quiet but firm, looking at her with those dusty grey eyes. The trees whispered warnings, shaking with fear at what they had just said and what it entailed. worse. The more I heard from the kid the more I dreaded for their ill-fated existence under the Nazi’s control.

“So Jay… why did Borya bring you here?”

She was trying to fill the awkward gap that had been left, to fester with misunderstanding and pity, like a wound opened words that disguised blades on the edge of literally splitting under our skin, never closed, just eft to scar over or rot. The world did not go dark again as they still lay flat out on the floor, propped up on arms that were slowly being dug into by sharp unforgiving stones. They absently smiled as they contemplated their answer, clearly unaware of the tension now floating between us sickening in its fresh sweet aroma.

“He said he had a headache… and he wanted to answer some of my questions.”

The lightly given response brought a dark glare corrupting her gaze as she looked over her shoulder at me, pointedly narrowing her eyes in disapproval. The rosy red glow becoming almost overpowering as she looked at me with disprove. Then as if a switch had been flipped she returned to a normal domina, warm motherly smile and soft eyes fixed on Ancom,

“So what sort of questions was he answering?”

She was light and breezy but Ancom seemed to note even in this slightly dazed position she was harboring other feelings under this friendly shell. In accordance with this slowly dawning realization Ancom became more alert, eyes becoming less dazed and general body language less relaxed.

“He answered questions that… I was asking.”

Silence filled the space after this vague statement, an obvious attempt to leave it open to interpretation, but Ninel would be having none of this cryptic bull. She sat expectantly waiting for elaboration. They seemed to realize they would have to elaborate and for the first time looking at me for the proper response. Grey eyes now swimming slightly with this present sense of incoming doom, with no way out of it.

My more human side wanted to reassure them, tell them it was ok and that Ninel wouldn’t hurt them. But my nature quickly crushed that protective sense, I’d thought I’d killed it years ago, but now it seemed to just be rising over and over. Trying to push me to do brash things, and although I would never admit it the humanity in me was still there, it had been what had pushed me to move them to a more comfortable environment. What had made me want to explain to them instead of just using them as I’d usually do, as I’d planned to do.

I can’t give them the answers, no matter if it would save my ass. Ninel won’t take them as who they are if I am the one feeding the words. So I started back at them blank expression, although watching their pleading eyes ripped something inside me like a knife.

The look of defeat on their face as they realized I wasn’t going to be helping, looking back at Ninel with pleading eyes, the trees whispered as the anxiety in their eyes ran wild but no darkness formed, no clods of smoke, something was stopping it. They were still laid out on the floor, undefended and they realized this sitting up abruptly before blurting out a mumbled response

“Umm... he like- He... he told me about… he, said he didn’t kill me, because his gut told him I’d be useful.”

They were nervous but resigned. It made a strained tone of voice, one that was so drawn between emotions it was almost listless..the way they moved their hand s was so familiar as they rocked back and forth with crossed legs. 

All three of us were sat in the rocks on the floor in the dark. It made a peculiar picture. Ninel considered their response for a few long moments, looking at nothing in particular. The darkness was not created by Ancom but it was beginning to close in on our dimly lit area. Even my brash blood-red glow was slowly being swallowed up by the night.

Finally Ninel looked at me her eyes glowing slightly as she stood up with the same grace she always held around her.  
“Borya… we need to talk. Take Jay to a room. Not a cell… they deserve some human decency after I knocked them out. I’d recommend the one on your corridor so that you can keep an eye on them. And then meet with me, in my office. We need to talk more extensively on the matter.”

She may not be an authoritarian as I was. But her words carried power, her eyes showed the sheer focus and confidence of an extreme, with the more amicable personality of a moderate. she had been a revolutionary of her own style before she was reincarnated fighting that she saw as unjust. She was possibly one of the most human ideologies I’d ever met. And this was reflected in the way she approached tasks.

“Of course Ninel.”

My response was short, not giving away any of my thoughts on the matter, I can’t decide how to react yet. With little difficulty, I stood, shifting my weight from one foot to the other subtly eyes fixed on Ancom expectantly. They seemed to register my silent request, as they also stood. Looking at me with those eyes they had tried so hard to use earlier, the eyes of a war-hardened soldier, so filled with spite and pain there was no room for feeling.

I took hold of Ancoms wrist and led them back to the building, careful not to hurt them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a girl asked me out,   
> she didn't know about my gender issues she kinda got told,   
> we agreed to wait till after the COVID situation to actually discuss this further.  
> (just so you know she/her they/them)
> 
> life keeps coming and hitting me like a fuck ton of bricks  
> I have a constant headache and can't stop it with pills.
> 
> ok sorry, I'll stop complaining its just aaaaaaaaaaaaa why is life so shitty?
> 
> ok thx for reading if I've got anything wrong tell me pleas that's the way I learn :))


	10. Chapter 10

Branches slapped my face as I led them down the meandering path splitting up behind us to wonder its way in countless directions. rocky and unstable underfoot, the grate expanse of wild nature once seeming to hold safety and seclusion now appeared threatening in the all hollow pitch. But I can’t be scared, I was a strong leader, a warrior, a soldier. For the people I had to give up everything holding me back, I had to give up weakness, to be their confident courageous leader, I had to always be strong. 

But Ancom was scared, I regrettably knew, it was not just of the dark causing them to shake and silently sing a dreadful plea, a plea I had seen etched into the faces of dead or dying soldiers, on battlefields punctuated with bomb pits and blood, one begging for survival or a faster relief. I would never hurt them, they had had enough damage from this cruel existence already. I would never hurt them. But the fear was there and it was strong. The stutters as they trip over rocks, the shaking, the constant breathy apologize, as though they don’t know if they were meant to be talking. 

If I had responded through any form, I would have probably been too irate to think reasonably, lashing out was not the course of action I needed in this situation. So I remained silent. I knew it wasn’t the best course of action, but I had no other tool at my disposal beyond remaining silent, I had no clue how to go about righting the malicious Nazi’s cruelty.

Finally, we reached the door, this one the same as the other, tall and imposing grey. The iron bars rusted slightly worse than the other door; So brittle in places the cage was flacking away and one of the middle bars was missing on the left window. I didn’t really pay attention though, the environment so familiar to me it all seemed to melt together into a soup of identical corridors and stained white. The rust was so familiar it was barely an afterthought. I stopped for the first time to look at Ancom. I kept a neutral expression as they looked up at me with frightened eyes. It felt so crushing to once again be faced with those round fearful eyes. I’d thought they trusted me not to hurt them, but now they acted like I was going to hit them with no reason behind the blow. 

“Please.”

I sighed heavily, they were staring up at me, a ghostly flutter behind their eyes, dusty grey like a cloud covered sunset, ominously cold, dark, but somehow I could still see the dance of life, one that brought Ancom to their spirit, one that had been crushed by the cruelty of someone undeserving of their time. How can I ask them to stop acting afraid of me? What have I done, beyond not killing them, that gives me the right to ask for their trust? I was at the bare minimum, and one of my people had knocked them out with her rage! I am below the bar at this point. It would be selfish to ask for them to trust me.

I bit my lip once more, the skin was beginning to wear away, indecision and anxiety were playing games once more with my mind, I had believed I had crushed those feelings long ago, and yet they still cased strife and turmoil when I tried to approach my personal challenges once again, ripping me apart with judgment and petrifying fear. I am not allowed to fear. I am not allowed indecision. I must be smart I must play my card as and when necessary.

So I remained silent, staring at them with this neutral expression, outside the double doors, the paint on the frame flacking in the light night breeze. The sky was endlessly expanding above us, hidden slightly by clouds but it was manageable, you could still see the stars if you concentrated. I wanted to concentrate on the stars, count every single one of those sparkly buggers, point out the constellations I recognized and make up new ones for the remaining expanse. The truth was I wanted to avoid talking to them when the fear was dancing in their eyes, stepping on their spirit. Struggling to maintain eye-contact they shook in my grip. 

Eventually, they realized I probably wasn’t going to end my sentiment, their pulse increased beneath my fingertips, it went from a fast but regular pace to a frantic frenzy, they flushed red as they watched my eyes track down to their wrist in slight concern. They dropped their eyes to the ripped cobbled ground, the misty grey now lost beneath the safety of the dark night and my distorting blood-red glow. Finally, they mumbled,

“Please what?”

They were so quiet and soft, making themself small and insignificant. This was something they did a lot, as they seemed to sink into the protective position so easily, protecting themselves against the perceived threat I instilled.

The shrubbery behind me whispered words so quietly, they were not caught but they sounded urgent, desperate for me to hear them, warnings or threats or both, I desperately tried to focused on the moment, turning the quiet night sounds out as they pressed in on me. I stared at Ancom for a few long moments, slowly trying to figure out what they had just said. It took me a while to get my mind on track, but eventually.

Shit. shit sHIT SHIT. How should I respond? 

I can’t ask for their faith, I haven’t earned it. I can’t ask for their forgiveness, I can’t say I’ve done anything wrong. I can’t ask them to stop worrying, because that’s just cruel and stupid. What am I meant to say?

“Please stop shaking.”

Well that was a shitty answer. Frustrated with my inept skill in keeping people calm, I internally scolded myself as I watched them become deathly still in my grasp. Looking at me with those dinner plate eyes, uncertainty crouching at the rim of their iris prowling like a cat ready to pounce across ready to induce a full-blown panic. And then they stared at me with shocked, terrified eyes, rooted to the spot they stood looking up at me, lips drawn taught, they wanted an outlet a pathway of escape.

My fucking. 

“No you don’t have to do anything, you don’t want to!”

I was quick to right my mistake, but it was clear the order had been registered and they recognized my ability, a twinkle of understanding in their eye. I suppose that’s a good thing though if they understand it now I won’t have to give an explanation later. But the fear in their eyes made my heart plummet as they scrambled back, and somehow it exploded into a worse state of panic as they felt the slight tug of my hand, preventing them from getting away any further. 

“Please”

It was quiet, the whispered word was said with earnest, as they tried to getaway. They had no power, and they knew it. I could make them literally kill themselves, or so they could believe, but I don’t think I could. Their heart was frantic and uncontrollable as they stilled trapped by my grips unwavering presser, resisting their feeble attempts to escape with no effort. I looked at their scared expression sadly, they were so frightened, so broken. My mind returned to the first time I'd seen them, without any knowledge of who they were beyond their obedient presence following Nazi like a dog. They had seemed so resigned, they had expected that was where their life would end. They had not been happy but they had been calm. They had ‘accepted death before they entered the complex’, one man had said so brazenly, they had not been concerned with the life, that they believed doomed. I suppose no one cared for life if it went against the greater cause. I hadn’t really cared until I believed them to be a slight piece of entertainment or possibly even worthy of my time.

But they were Ancom. Ancom, the spirit I seemed to have played cat and mouse with for a time, older than I was; Ancom who I had killed, protected, hunted, been hunted by. Ancom who I promise to protect when they came again. Ancom who I had been too scared to love.

But they weren’t my Ancom. They were the next Ancom, the successor of the old. But the fear in their eyes reminded me of my Ancom a long time ago. When she had first come to be. The way the world seemed to melt away around me, letting me listen solely to the whispers of the natural world, focus all my energy on Ancom. Their eyes were grey, deep and sinking and desperate for escape as I waited for them to calm down. We stood for a time that was so incalculable you could have destroyed the world at that moment and I wouldn't have taken any notice.

“We will be going to the room on my corridor, it’s safe. If you want I’ll have a guard at the door, you will be locked in for the duration of my meeting with Ninel. I can give you a phone although it won’t work extremely well, you will only be able to call me on it. I will return to you once the meeting is done to finish our conversation.”

The cold delivery, the matter of fact style I spoke with, they understood I wasn’t fucking around and they nodded very slightly, keeping their eyes fixed with mine. While we had waited their heart had slowed to a less frantic pace, it maintained a high level but it was more manageable.

With their wrist still in my grip, I turned to the door and opened its heavy frame with no difficulty, a piece of flaking paint fell to the ground as it made a heavy clunk reaching the extent of its hinges. I walked through with the same relaxed but authoritative persona I kept when commanding my men. A woman with short brown hair stood at the other side. She held her weapon at her hip, with a relaxed air. Back straight, shoulders squared, standing at attention as I walked by. We did not talk but we silently registered each other with a slight nod from me and a fast but precise blink from her. All was in order with her, while we were having our… interrupted meeting.

We began walking in stiff silence once more, I was too busy thinking to consider bringing any convoluted route, so we walked the quickest path to the room, it wasn’t too bad though as I still live on a higher level of the complex, it still was a complex and complicated walk. It also gave enough time to overthink everything that had just transpired.

What was I supposed to do now? I need to give them a room. I want to get them better acquainted with my site. I wanted them to become part of the team. I wanted to get to know them, but I need to put the group first. I can’t want anything for myself. I need to make the party the army the people happy. Ancap had asked to get them help… there were onsite therapists. They were always willing to help, trained for the bloodied and war-hardened, but they could probably help them with some of their own issues. We took good care of our soldiers and we tried hard never to give them lasting damage they could not recover from, although it often happens we work hard to keep them alive and healthy.

But how am I meant to get Ninel to trust them? She had seemed extremely opposed to their presence on site. Terrified of what they could do, thinking of underhanded tactics and believing a trojan horse of Ancom. but deep down something told me they could be trusted, they were worthy of a chance to prove themselves, at the least. But I can’t convince her on a gut feeling.

We made it to the corridor. The same to every other corridor (on the upper floor), It only had 2 doors instead of the ordinary 4 as the rooms were meant for living, having more space, and in some even private areas. The reason the other room on our corridor (the one Ancom was being put in) was deserted was that people believed the whole place was haunted. I got the room I occupied now, one of the larger places -although I only ever use the bedroom- because I didn’t believe in ghosts, it just didn’t scare me. Plain and simple, I was the only person willing to be placed in the room.

We approached the door with no tribulations, Ancom trailing behind me wrist in my grip hanging limply. They were walking so robotically, no thought in where they placed their feet beyond following my footfall and avoiding stepping on my feet. We stopped and the suddenness of it made them splutter as they stumbled headlong into my back. Hand bent at a slightly painful angle as they tried to regain some balance. Looking at me with anxious eyes, I did not react to their mistake which seemed to relax them slightly. I had to grab a phone from my room to give to them, I had a draw full (don’t ask why I had no clue, I was just sorta dumped with a load of cheap phones that were one call disposable things) but before I did that I turned to them.

“Do you want a guard?”

I hadn’t actually got an answer I’d just offered and then steamrolled off, and honestly, I was curious about their response. The green glimmer in their eye was a slight shock as I threw a quick glance over my shoulder. The pool of stress and uncertainty was still swirling wildly in their eyes as they stared back at me. But the green was there. I unlocked the haunted room’s door with my universal key, one that was given to me with great caution and probably regret on Ninel’s behalf. The deserted room was cold, not icy cold about the same as the cells but it struck me that Ancom would probably want to be at least a little warm. I might grab them a cote while I went to my apartment. The mattress was stripped and it looked decollete, unlived in for a long time.

“No thanks.”

Their response was level and calm, as I looked back at them they had a slightly greener tinge to the grey eyes, it was reassuring in a strange way, as I crooked an eyebrow at their response. No guard would be called. They had no escape from the room and they were purposefully isolating themselves. Although it was probably out of distrust. I wouldn’t have a possible enemy’s guard at my door.

“Suit yourself, I'll be back with a phone just give me a sec.”

I shrugged easily as I gently pushed them into the room, releasing their wrist for the first time, a red mark emerged from where my grip had been around their wrist skin rubbed a raw shade, internally I cringed, but I maintained a neutral outpost as I shut the door. Quickly locking it before turning as facing the stained walls heaving a deep sigh. Untying a knot in my chest with slight difficulty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT.  
> 10 chapters 
> 
> like honestly, l wrote this to prove to myself I could write a creative piece,  
> it was meant to be a one-off.  
> but look where it is now!
> 
> honestly thank ya'll for reading at my stumbling meandering shit as I try to figure out how to write,  
> it means a lot to this little soul <3


	11. Chapter 11

The corridor seemed to be judging me, whispering words so quiet I could barely hear them, but they held malice heavy and cruel in every inedible murmur. Goding me, everything I was doing was a bad idea, I need to seriously consider what I’m doing, stop being reckless. Do I want to die, as well? Do I want to die…

The stained white walls, familiar with every pockmark, glaring out at me like beady soulless eyes. The flickering light that never got replaced, because I just didn’t care enough to complain, the slight hum of the ancient boiler, barely heating the complex with its rattling shuddering breaths. It was all so familiar, I could recite them like a lullaby sung to me as a child, fresh in my mind as the day they were recited, engraved into my core, my very being, like too love crossed idiots etch their names into a tree, even if the meaning of the action was doomed to fail…

But the person behind the door. They were not so familiar, but the yearning for them, the never-ending ache? That was so. yet now it intensified tenfold, ripping me apart in its desperate attempt to finally be fulfilled. I wish I could truly crush my useless humanity, years of pressure and it had never cracked, stubborn to my stomping on it, ignoring the desperate way I brushed it aside. Always refusing to be silenced entirely. 

I stood outside the door and felt for the first time what I had been hiding from myself, for so long. I burned with yerning, with weakness. It scared me to my core, the stains on the wall cackling at my confusion and pain, I was alone in my mind and I hated it all, how loud and angry it’s raged, trying so hard to push away everything to silence my newly emboldened humanity. 

I wanted to cry. 

That was the most terrifying thought, ripping across my brain like a knife slashing across bare skin. I remembered the last time I cried, the way my body had been shaken with sobs, the way the tears rolled down my face, I had felt so weak, so valuable, useless. I refused to be that weak again. I will do anything to stop myself from being that weak again. The memories burning a new fire in my soul, one that burned a gloomy grey, edged only slightly green. I refuse to be as weak for them I must be strong and courageous for them I must be protector, as I was for the people. I will NOT be weak. The determination of that one order ripped me from my spiral. Staring at the stained white walls, I was standing in the deserted hall, the light bulb was flickering and the boiler was humming as normal. Ancom was in the hunted room and I had to meet Ninel.

I blinked once before hurrying across the hall to my room/apartment. Grabbing my key and opening the door with no effort, the lock making a satisfying click sound reverberating off the walls with a more ominous thrum, it didn’t bother me though. I walked through the door and was greeted by the same room as always, a bed neatly made, my clothes and my second pair of boots. It was the same as always. All in order all so familiar and simple. Barebones to the highest degree. Bowing my head slightly, I turned to the old door glossy white paint flacking off so badly it was basically just a splintering cheap wood door. I didn’t really cair, it hadn’t been used in at least a week, more like a month, but who was counting? Wrenching it open with my right hand while holding the black latch on the handle up with my left. It was slightly awkward as the whole door was threatening to break apart beneath my hands. 

Once it was open I propped it up with one of my heavy books, a slight sigh slipped my lips, as I walked through into the dusty kitchen space. It was barely big enough for me to maneuver in, but it was a functioning kitchen and acted more as extra storage space. To be honest, I prefer eating in the canteen with the men, or even just getting random food bits as I go along, or not eating…

The counters were a slightly unkempt mess, a miss-match of cold shining stone and almost splintering varnished wood. shelves and cupboards filled with an assortment of discarded clutter, none of which were strictly for cooking (I didn’t actually own any cooking items, beyond my babushka’s old cooking pot), accumulated across the small space. I went to the draw I knew I had left the boxy phones in, rooting around through the varied amounts of bullet shells and papers that never got read. Finally reaching the heavy-duty phones which looked about 20 years old, but had been bought brand new a few months back. Grabbing the first one I saw and checking it turned on quickly. The screens tiny icons barely lit up, but they worked. 

Nodding I turned and left the cramped kitchen, but I left the door open, trying to air out the dusty room, but knowing deep down it wouldn’t work, I’d actually have to properly air it out to relive it of that heavy dusty scent. A job for another day. I turned to leave, before remembering I wanted to get them a jacket, I turned back, spinning on my heel lightly, to the room, with consideration. None of my jackets would fit, but I’d prefer something that might be a reasonable enough fit, honestly, It just needs to be a jacket. Warm and easy. But they were so small. I had to have something that would suit them.

I walked over to my clothes, with some deliberation. My civilian clothes had not been worn in what felt like years, but could only be months for since the silent war had begun simmering I’d had to be on the ball all day every day, no matter what. The pile was rather small anyway, and I knew nothing would fit them, even the small ones would have hung off them like a dress. But I just needed to get them a coat, nothing that needed to really fit. I dug around a bit, though still not having much choice. I settled on a big brown winter jacket, it had countless pockets and fur trim, it would be huge on them but it would certainly keep anyone warm. 

I checked every pocket for anything that could be fashioned as a weapon. lucky I had as I discovered an alarming amount of things I had evidently forgotten to remove: A sturdy secondhand pocket knife with a red handle that must be at least 50 years old and was as sharp as the day it was fashioned in the main pocket, a penknife with a simple oak wood handle hidden in a shoulder pocket, an assortment of old bullets and bullet shells lining the inside pocket on the left hand, a lot of matchboxes all at different remaining in them and just a lode of blades like just hidden all over the pockets one of which’s protective cover slipped off as I extracted it out of the small zip pocket, it cut my finger with minimal effort due to how sharp it was. Making me bleed for a few minutes. 

I bit my lip as I stared at the strangely empty jacket rumpled on the bed all its zippers open for the first time since I acquired it. next to the assortment of potential weapons, I may have a slight issue, the jacket looked threatening. My forehead creased slightly at the strange assortment contemplating the way my opinions changed depending on the ability to see the bigger picture. Before I returning to my task. I sighed deciding to clear up the mess later. I still had to meet Ninel, I grabbed the phone and coat and walked to the room across the corridor once more. 

Thumbling with the key only having one hand I managed to open the door and walk-in. Ancom was curled, legs pressed against their chest, arms wrapped around their knees. Backed up against the bed rigidly. Their eyes were fixed on the wall, a vacant expression on their face like no one was actually behind their eyes, corps like. It was the same way they had sat in the interrogation room, before they had broken down. The memory was still fresh and sickening in my mind. I did not want a repeat, so I lightly called,

“Ancom… Ancom.”

I didn’t get a response, but they were shivering, and they looked so small. The room was so big around them leering down at them from every angle. Their pale green glow seeming to be pressed down to a bare flicker as they sat staring at the wall, shivering. I frowned at my decision but let myself do it anyway, I might be able to get them to trust me yet. I approached slowly, taking light steps as though they were sleeping and I was careful not to disrupt this calm trance-like state, they were lost in. I reached them and as gently as possible draped the jacket across them like a leathery brown blanket. They didn’t stir, remaining still as a post welded into the earth, immovable.

I smiled lightly at them before placing the phone on the worn carpet a few inches from their hand, my number was in it already. Stepping back I stared at them, blank soulless and peaceful, they were sat rigid as stone, beneath the heavy brown winter jacket. I stared for a few moments longer before I left, calm and easy as that, strolling out the room with a light swish of my blazer. I locked the door behind me. I had to face the fury once more. But this time it almost felt like a relief, although she would echo many of my own fears at least I could figure out what to do next with her… 

I hope anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't honestly remember writing this entirely,   
> it's just sorta here now,   
> I think it's ok...
> 
> ya...   
> a bit short but then its also like all over the place.  
> I'm so sorry this is shitty
> 
> please point out any grammar/spelling/pronoun issues,  
> that's the way I learn <3


	12. Chapter 12

The walk was short to Ninel’s office, a flight of echoing stairs and a few winding corridors and I was outside her office door. But thoughts tailed me, calling out to me, they dragged me this way and that with their incessant worry, I couldn’t seem to escape them, as I sped up and up and up. But I could never quite outrun them. By the time I got there, I was struggling to keep my panting under control, having basically run there from the crumbling concrete staircase. Luckily no one had seen me at that moment. I stood still, composing myself, I slicked my hair back before placing my ushanka on, I had to seem confident, relaxed in control. Even if on the inside I was anything but, I was a master at faking by this time. I had to learn to be, to survive this shit scape of a life. I was going to survive. I refused to lose now.

Each door on the office corridor had an opaque window, a small plaque with the occupants’ name and position, the walls were newly painted and were not stained with the marks that the past would strike across almost every other wall in the complex, heavy wooden doors not splintering and almost shining with treatment solutions the handles well oiled and glinting. They were some of the prized areas being devoted much more time due to their regular usage. At the end of the hall, a heavy double door set led through to the core meeting room, I had lost nights drilling over maps in that room, even looking at it made my head hurt a slight bit. The stress from those times still drifting over me like a ghost of sleeplessly-made idiotic-decisions. 

The corridor carpet was a well-walked trail, many soldiers were situated within, making sure the army remained well functioning. It was a quiet space filled with the occasional shuffle from behind a door or the gentle clicking of a keyboard. The slight smell of carpet cleaner and polish hung in the air. It was soothing to my busy mind as I trailed slowly towards the door with Ninel’s silver plaque. Although the anxiety within my mind ran wild, I could not bring myself to truly fear Ninel, although she was a terrifying force, I knew she was doing all that she could with what she had been given. She always had the best intentions at heart, caring for all the members of our army of the barracks and the people we were sworn to defend and serve. she almost always knew what we would need to do to keep everyone alive, preparing to the best of our ability.

I approached her door, staring at her plaque with apprehension, I’d seen it thousands of times, glittering under the strong lights, the black words painted on almost as though fresh, the way they sparkled and glinted, a reflective patch spinning around dizzyingly as I approached,

‘Ninel Santo ~ Socialism  
Head of internal security’

The words seemed to eat away at me for a few long moments, I wondered what she already recognized, what she had gathered and what she understood from our disjointed discussion. I wondered what she knew. Ninel was smart, smarter than most of my war council. She understood the world through a real lense, what could and couldn’t be done, but she was also an optimist, she believed with a whole heart that the world could change. That we could make true progress.

But I feared that that optimism could blind her. She was too important to die, she can’t let her way of thinking get in the way of her life, as it had the day she died. But I’m being a hypocrite in that. I suppose that’s who I was doomed to always be. A hypocrite. But I can’t face that revelation now.

I heaved a sigh and stood straight, strong, filling all the space around with my blood-soaked aura. My robust persona would allow me to hide, appearing as powerful as someone who knew the weight of each decision they made and what the consequences for that would be, seen as reliable, to do what was for the best and without consideration of their personal affections, weighing the merits of each situation and only taking calculated risks. Most certainly not the man who only owned a forty-year-old cooking pot, not the man who had been afraid of being scolded by a subordinate, not the man who had been listening to a part of himself that should be dead years ago.

The confidence I walked into her office with was unrivalled, head held high and body open, relaxed yet authoritative, utilizing my frame as a way to impose upon others, that I was not to be displeased. The small space was the same as it always was, a cluttered yet somehow organized chaotic area, filing cabinets overflowing with paperwork, shelves covered with tiny trinkets gifted to her or collected from all over the world, the mug she’d been given when she’d gotten the office, it had “feminist mama” written on it with bold black and pink lettering this mug was next to a framed photo on her desk, of a young woman smiling dazzlingly at the camera person, she was holding a sign that said “WOMAN STAND TOGETHER”, it was in black and white but the sparkle in her eyes was so brilliant it lit up the room years after being taken. The room seemed so relaxed soothingly normal, but Ninel was sat at her desk with a raised eyebrow, staring at me with scepticism glinting within her eyes,

“You just meandered your way up that corridor for about 2 minutes. Then you stood outside my door for a solid 14 seconds. Do you actually want to talk, or are you just going to sit there, like a sack of coal? Because I want to get to a solution or at least an understanding. I can’t negotiate, or really even talk, to a brick wall.”

Her matter of fact style of approaching a topic was somehow its own solution, Ninel was a good, smart, person. She was able to approach a topic with her own brand of realism. And she would take no crap from anyone. I breathed in a long sigh through my nose, I can't let the tension persist, she’d just kick me out, and I really wanted a solution right now. And honestly, you can’t feel uneasy around her, it was like my carefully built facade melted around me, like frosted grass when faced with the first shaft of the morning sun, I smiled, chuckling at the idiocy I was trying to project, why was I so concerned?

“Good.”

A cheeky smile lit up her round face, making her eyes sparkle, the lines carved into her cheeks, from years of joyous moments, creasing as she stood up, 

“Take a seat you Goliath-ass bastard. I have some biscuits around here, just let me find them.”

She began to bustle fluttering between the cluttered shelves and draws, with the ease of someone who knew the place with years of use. Her brisk and airy attitude was so familiar, it was like sitting with my older sister, all those years ago. She had the best Kievsky and we would sit till the early house of the morning talking, a few bottles of vodka and we were set, we would have thought that we would never feel the cold again.

I dragged one of the old rickety chairs, from its place pressed against the wall, heaving a teetering unsteady stack of books off it onto the counter, before doing so. I sat on it with the same relaxed easy feeling Ninel seemed to hold around her cluttered environment, that cosy homely sense of normality and safety. I watched with intrigue as Ninel manoeuvred around the cabinets overflow, moving with this learned grace, she searched for a time, digging through draw after draw, speeding up ever so slightly as she tried to find the biscuits. After a while, she turned to me with a smile that screamed “stop judging me!” as she struggled to figure out where she had left them. 

I grinned back at her with one of my own uncomfortable smiles, knowing it would just wind her up. She made a sour face at me before realization dawned on her face and she turned back. She laughed slightly as she finally found the biscuit tin tucked away in a cabinets top shelf, obscured slightly by a stack of papers. She placed it on the desk with a triumphant air before she slid into her own much less rickety seat, she had a hand-embroidered pillow she had struggled with for months, and the seat had a collection of dangly bits off the back, a true thrown of colourful patterns. She smiled at me with this smug proud face, humour dancing in her rosy eyes, glinting out like liquid gold from every wrinkle that curled as she smiled.

The tin on the desk was an old design, a fairground with a big red and white circus tent in the background, children were riding some fairground rides and a couple sat on a bench eating candy floss; the whole picture had faced paint and some of the finer details like the faces were gone, but it was very pretty and was a functioning tin. Ninel beamed at me before opening the tin with some gracelessness, struggling to get the stiff lid off the tin. Within was an assortment of random biscuits, some homemade chocolate chip ones, mismatched sizes, scattered between an assortment of other types. We both took one and sat back with this relaxed air, sighing heavily as we began to eat, considering what to say next.

The silence hung on for a few long moments, we both had finished eating and were sitting back, she was looking at me with a considerate expression. A calculating evaluation, trying to know how to begin, slowly cracked by a tired glow, dim in her eyes, she aged about 10 years in the matter of a few seconds, looking at the table with a dimly framed face,

“So. How were they?”

Ninel was cautious, picking her words delicately, as though trying to leave some space. I considered her question for a few moments, how were they? Honestly, they had seemed scared, so scared of the world, of me. It had been stressful to deal with, but all I’d really wanted was for them to trust me. But I can’t really say that. I don’t want to feel that, she wants them to be ok, but I can’t say that ever, that would be a flat-out lie, so I went for a neutral response.

“Quiet.”

They had been quiet, deathly quiet, a ghost to the world at large. When I had left them they were corpselike cold, shivering, but they had had no soul behind their eyes. Ninel looked up at me, she knew I was hiding something, but she didn’t press. The smile in her eyes had melted, now she was just counting the seconds between my words, watching every tick my body gave off. Someone with her observation skills would have probably known the secrets of the world by now, but she knew when to let something rest, hanging in the air, yet unsaid. She had always known that somethings go better unmentioned. She knew the truth was worse than I would make it out to be,

“So they were ok?”

She wanted to know they were alright, I supposed I could be in agreement with that, they seemed so helpless, small, innocent and damaged. Curled on the floor they had seemed so small. But I had no clue if they were ok, I didn’t even know what ‘ok’ meant at this point. Alive? Her eyes bore holes into my soul, seeing through my pondering thoughts more clearly than I ever could, dull and sad, her shoulders slacked down, she waited for what I would say, watching me slowly accumulate an answer.

“I- suppose…”

I grit my teeth the words feeling like acid on my tong, indecisive and delusional at the same time, it felt like a lie, yet nothing was going to be the truth. Really nothing could be the truth, I had no answer to the question I had no clue. I looked at her with an expression I couldn’t really describe, the rickety chair squicked ever so slightly, shifting beneath me as I shuffled my weight back and forth uncomfortable subject to her transfixed gaze. 

She nodded lightly understanding what I meant, eyes fixed on me with a lightly trailed frown, as though she thought I was going to come out with some revelation a solution to all the confusing issues at hand, or maybe that was me projecting. Either way, nothing of the sort came to mind, I just continued to look at her with an uncomfortable expression, her usually soothing presence now feeling more like a cage trapping me into this chamber of uncertainty.

“Do we know… anything about them?”

I almost laughed at this, the word to focus on being ALMOST. Because we did, I did, in a small fragmented way. They were helpless and scared, a shaking wreck of anxiety and fear, but they were dangerous, they had frozen me with their own terror a cloud of smoky fear drowning out every thought I had been holding, replace with the fear they held. I was a powerful ideology, able to withstand the powers as strong as the likes of Nazi, I had lived with Posadist for months and I could brace for most any impact on a physical level from almost any ideology. 

But they had an ability not met before, they relied on something I couldn’t entirely understand, they seemed to not understand, or even control. That was apparent with their green stage when they seemed to flip to a powerful extreme, their eyes becoming all they were meant to embody, I had seen extremes of many forms, but with them, it was somehow terrifying. The grey glow the green flicker, the swirling black smoke signifying their doom, their fear. It was all so confusing, and yet I could almost recognize it, they were something new, a wild card. Just as likely a destructive force ready to decimate the world around them, as they could be a powerful tool, ally. The threat they presented was high and impending, like a loaded gun, it could just as easily be turned on us, we just needed to take the risk. I suppose we could thank the Nazi for the threat, the wildness of their ability set, I suppose. In a way, he might have fashioned his own worst enemy. Or another tool to try to destroy us.

“They could be the death of the Authoritarian Right just as easily be the death of us. They may be the most powerful ideology we have ever met. If we want them to be on our side we just need to get them to trust we are a better bet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made the chapter a bit longer, idk, it just felt like the right thing to do after the last chapter...
> 
> We get a look into Ancom and the rest idk, the powers are just really fun to me,   
> like they all can do shit that sorta allies with their character.
> 
> and if like anyone missed it, I don't think I was extremely clear about it,   
> AuthLeft can order people to do shit but its a bit more complicated than that,  
> maybe gets an explanation, maybe won't   
> who knows? not me 
> 
> Goliath ass is like the best insult I could think off the top of my head   
> and like I'm sorry it's so cheesy it's just aaaaaaa
> 
> please point out any gramma/pronoun/spelling mistakes  
> it's the way I learn!


	13. Chapter 13

Ninel looked at me with a flat expression, no emotion conveyed, all she would do was sit and watch. Consider my words as they settled in the air. I knew she would consider before giving a response, she was going to wait to see if I would give more information. I didn’t want to play that game, no matter how much I wanted to take the bait, I knew she was too good at winning for her own good.

Instead, I turned my attention to the familiar room, it was small around us, almost appearing like a cosy little spot, secluded and boxed in by a mismatched blend of wooden shades and heaps of paperwork, the cold concrete walls were mostly covered and the parts that weren’t were painted a similar colour to her soft rosy aura. We sat in this strange standstill of uncommunicated thoughts and feelings, the uncertainty of how we should approach the topic, the terrifying implications Ancom’s perceived strength could entail and what we could do. both our, unspoken yet silently registered, solutions presented a possible hazard and our leaving the topic to hang in the balance presented a whole new style of threat... 

Finally, Ninel nodded, her stilled expression growing more motive and her rosy eyes becoming more animated darting to the desk then the wall absently shifting at their own volition, as she considered the options she had been left open with. She wanted to understand, the way her head tilted and her brow furrowed, she wanted answers. I could understand that, see my own frustration reflected in her eyes. But I only wanted to answer the questions she had, not give her more questions, not scare her or give her a new reason to distrust me or Ancom. I respected her too much to let her in on emotions, my infuriating inability to control a part of that was dead, my sudden onset of humanity was a sour prick in the fresh revelation that Ancom was alive. And even better they had been in my capture, yet they were not my Ancom and the fear I had seen controlling them behind their gaze, the grey that hung around them like the dark clouds formed on the horizon of the ocean, warning of a threat to come, that had felt like an omen. But I can’t dwell now, I must make sure they can stay here then I can think of 

“What does their power really do? I saw the black cloud it grew a lot and you looked at it like it was going to murder everything you loved, I didn’t want to be faced with the consequences of its growth, what was it? And if their Ancom -as you claim them to be- why are they grey, Ancom is green. All incarnations of Anarcho Communism have been green, it’s not too big of a deal but if they’re not green, how can you know they’re not lying about who they are? And Why on earth do you feel you could trust them? They said it was due to you having a ‘gut feeling’ that that was the only reason you kept them alive, but there must be something more.”

Loaded question after loaded question. Her gaze heavy as she weighed me down with the consideration of how to answer them in the best manner, not upsetting her but just informing her. What answer would be the least upsetting? not minimising the issue at hand just making it easier to digest, without causing her to become even angrier and frustrated with me and my perceived recklessness, with both the safety of the barracks and my own. I looked at the overflowing cabinet just over her right shoulder, papers scattering on the floor, similar to my wild thoughts, unreliably sorted, confusing order, trying to all be dealt with at the same time. I brushed this off, start at the simple, build up. Although there were no really simple questions, with no clear-cut answer,

“Their not just grey, they went really green when in the interrogation room, their eyes had the anarchy symbol, they WERE Ancom for a moment, they were all that they could embody of Ancom, and if you look at them you can see the green fluctuate, it’s light but its there and…  
Their eyes on the border often look green or flaked with green. Limb green, emerald, any form. Always crystalising together to make drifting images, although it’s usually more of a grey storm cloud, bordering threatening to take them over sinking their tones down and down in a spiral.”

My eyes drifted off for a moment, caught by the dancing dust once more, although this room, wasn’t nearly as dusty as the interrogation room, there was no surface that really could be settled on, as the room was in perpetual motion, in a constant state of use as Ninel really never stopped working, even on her off days she would do odd jobs for the fun of it. I looked up at her, eyes fixed on me slightly confused maybe a little dumbfounded, then I realised what I had just said and stumbled,

“NOT- not that I really focus on their eyes or anything like that. just- an observation.”

I had realised a little too late what that had sounded like and had tried to cover, failing miserably, as I stumbled out a half baked excuse, I’m not creepy, just observant! Ninel looked at me straight in the eye, eyebrows raised as she leant in slightly, her rose-red aura seeping into every dent and crevis etched into the desk from years of use and improper maintenance. Her smile was sly and sceptical as she gave me a once over, unwanted prying eyes noting every uncomfortable shuffle, every flick of my attention.

“Umm… their powers…”

I blundered on, trying to outrun her watchful eyes. The room seemed to move around me as I struggled to get the words out. Uncertain if I had any other way out knowing that she would follow up with that, use that as a weapon, she always did, she had a heart of gold and a tong of silver, although we did not use currency,

“They have this cloud, its…”

My head was spinning, under her watchful eye, I was disconcerted, I had no way out and I was being scrutinised by an evaluating eye. I wanted to fight back, wanted to tell her to stop, regain control of the situation that felt like it was slipping. But all she was doing was looking at me. Why did I feel so panicked, attacked? I slipped away from that train of thought as I sunk into the next, manoeuvring from one stressful thought to the next. What were the clouds, apart from feelings, apart from this strange force that I couldn’t recognise. I was lost for a moment mouthing dumbly like a fish out of water, I was out of my depth when trying to explain our encounter, I am shit at feelings at recognising how people will react to specific feelings. and the way I found out was another explanation… I picked my words carefully toeing the line so thinly so as not to give the truth or details away.

“We had an incident where.”

I paused for a long moment, considering, before just glossing over the topic entirely, faking a light smile that Ninel frowned at slightly,

“And- well they had an emotional out berst…. the black cloud came up... and it blacked out the room, and I felt their feelings at that moment all of their feelings, the intensity of them... And it was an experience…”

Ninel looked at me, the playful expression melted away replaced with a more concerning focus, leaning in slightly, the right side of her head tiled in, face stony but somehow concentrated. The room seemed to also lean in, moving with her as her focus honed in on me, the curiosity and concern glittering in her eyes, staring out through the crease in her brow, the way they head was bowed, as she began to open her mouth to ask what I meant, ask for me to elaborate? I didn’t know and I didn’t honestly want to find out. I’m not inclined to really talk about what had happened, I don’t even truly know, or want to understand, and although this was supposed to be an entirely open discussion I just can’t find the energy to even really think about what happened critically or any other way.

“And your last question of how I know I can trust them?”

My voice was more confident now, less staggard. Propping up this false sense of security I knew would crumble at the slightest push so I pushed on. I was confident in my response but I knew she would never really accept it. I had to be sure in it, put on my- my real persona? It was too confusing to actually think about. Ninel looked at me a few moments before nodding and sitting back, crossing her arms head held high. She was going to fight this one if she saw fit to, I could be seen in the way her eyes narrowed, lips folded just so, challenging me to speak. I picked my words delicately, eyes fixed on her, letting the room drift away till it was as though we were in a space within time, sunk below the layer on our own in this pocket of the universe. Quietly staring at each other.

“I don’t know if I can trust them. But I know that they can be useful to us and to the army useful for the war. I don’t know if they will trust us. But...”

I took a deep breath considering once again how I was going to explain it, Ninel was sat expectantly waiting for my elaboration, her arms still folded defiantly across her chest. Her eyes fixed on me, her short hair was stood up slightly, she resembled a hedgehog in her small stature and her spiky personality. She had the perfect poker face. I couldn’t tell if she was going to rip me apart for my recklessness or tell me befriending Ancom would be the most important move in this war, ever way I carried on, holding the confident persona.

“But I know that if we make them feel safe, we can utilise them for our cause, they are something new and I for one, am willing to take the risk. How about you?”

Giving her the tale end, a question to answer, I knew the game, no matter how obsessive and emotionless I act, I know the game. Her game, my game, the game. I’ve been made to play on both receiving and giving ends. I knew how to get information, as Ninel could, although she played the game exceptionally better than I did, she was not as good at the reverse. She couldn’t keep up with the game, slowing down, her cold gaze melting easily away.

Ninel glanced around, averting her watchful gaze, relieving me of that constant concentration, the cluttered room returned as she stalled for time looking at the furniture with unfocused eyes, considering, she slowly turned to look back at me, the small way her eyebrow twitched and her glassy expression telling me she was still considering her response. Cautiously, she parted her lips to reply.

“I don-”

She was cut off by a loud obnoxious buzzing, it was my old Nokia brick and I immediately pulled it out of my jacket pocket and without thinking answered, the concern it was Ancom wearing on my mind as I answered, eyes fixed on the now silent Ninel, the fear pumping through my veins slowed for a moment as a woman’s voice answered, soft and soothing, light. Yet there was some urgency within the way her breathing was shallowed slightly and it quivered, 

“Sir, I must enquire about the room adjacent to your own on the corridor.”

No one used its real number, the fear of it being a curse weighing too heavily on their minds to allow them to think critically, but I wasn’t complaining about that at this second. As her voice was laced with concern, making my stomach dropped dramatically as I considered why she would call about Ancom. The room fell away around me as I focused all I could on the phone

“There is an unauthorized person, they are talking about umm…”

She paused for a moment voice going extremely soft as she murmured delicately, 

“They are talking about cells 20 and 21…” 

How could they know about... This can’t be true this… my blood went cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't explain the trouble this chapter gave me like honestly, I was so brain dead...
> 
> yea so, this was difficult, next chapter might be a bit more interesting... 
> 
> idk I just have no idea how to write a ch=ohesive story, new to that fact still.
> 
> and like I want to give Commie a ring tone but I have no clue what it should be so like...  
> ideas? pleas?
> 
> ow and spelling/gramma/pronoun mistakes pointed out are really helpful as that is the way I learn   
> <3


	14. Chapter 14

I looked at Ninel, shock pooling in my stomach, stopping me from reacting to the woman, waiting anxiously, on the other end of the phone. I could be reasonably assured that if the world had ended at that moment I wouldn’t have noticed, or maybe I’d of been thankful, I couldn’t really tell all I knew was this was a troubling course of events. 

Ninel seemed to pick up pretty fast something had gone gravely wrong, her rosy red eyes became fixed on my face, glittering with concern, her lips pursed and her already bright aura intensified wrapping the room with its glow. The shock in my stomach, not as much dissolved or dissipated, as it got forced aside by my well-honed and practised ability, primal and confident, proficient in all forms it must fulfil, down to an art form. It was making me act, move much like a puppet, performing the tasks I needed to, while my brain lay in shock. It was almost pleasant, stepping back as my auto piolet dealt with the situation, like a well-oiled machine, going through an especially clean-cut line of code, programmed to easily take back control of a stressful situation.

“I will be coming to see them after this meeting, keep them in the room. If it’s necessary to put a gardon the door, do. But try destaining from showing any form of aggression or mistrust. We are trying to-”

My brain faulted at this, gliding over the fact we were trying to manipulate them into trusting us, like a jit in its code it was difficult to get over, it felt deceptive, wrong. Ninel was still looking at me, her rose-red eyes fixed on my expression with this intensity I understood as unrivalled in any other individual. She was listening intently to the conversation from my end, she understood immediately who it was about and she looked concerned and angry and all multitude of other emotions. The cosy elements of the room now felt out of place, almost as deceptive as our attempts at cultivating trust,

“Keep them calm. You will suffer if you don’t,”

At that ominous phrase, I hung up, I couldn’t tell where that had come from. Was I warning her about their shadowy emotional power? Was I warning her of my bloodsoaked wrath if they were upset? It was difficult to figure out as I sat back within my own mind, watching myself act as an onlooker to the well-worn way I controlled and behaved myself seeing it from an outsiders perspective was always an odd experience. The pattern was so familiar, I knew how I was going to deal with the breach like I memorised the router of clean up duty or who was in control of what and how they did their jobs.

Ninel looked at me for a few seconds as I drew a breath, to compose and organise my busy mind, the rosy red of the room now beginning to complement my more brash bloodied rays. As I stood up, still maintaining eye contact with Ninel, I began to speak not really knowing or understanding the words falling from my lips, a stranger to myself as I performed the ritualistic game, I was so familiar with it as second nature,

“Ninel, I want you to organise the meeting rooms nearest rooms 20 and 21, this is not a certainty in need of use, more a precaution. We have had a possible information breach, conducted by Ancom, and if we need to hold a discussion. I want it to be done sooner rather than later.”

I paused to take a breath and to survey Ninel’s response to my words, the way her eyes narrowed and her lips pulled back into an excruciatingly thin, disapproving, line. I knew she would have a few select words to air her grievances with and before I could cut her off once again this time with my simple departure-she spoke up, 

“I fucking told you, didn’t I? They could be a spy, they could be here to destroy us from the inside! They could be doing any number of things to damage our case, we need to protect ourselves, the Nazi could be attacking us at any moment and you are devoting all your attention to an individual that could, for all we know, be here to see our deaths! Do you think your performance didn’t suffer after knowing them one day? You are blind, you’re being an idiot and I can’t understand how you can put so many people in danger over one chance.”

Ninel was spiking up one again like a pissed-off cat, all I could do was watch as her rage bubbled up, detached, an onlooker. The red aura began to collide with my own creating a stain across the room like the blood on the floor of many a cell, sickeningly bright marking everything it could reach with this putrid gloop. I realised if I let her rage continue I could be dealing with a tornado of her voice, in a very small space, picking up all forms of paper and books, plants and cupboards. I didn’t want to die at the hands of a cupboard very particularly and I had to deal with this. As a leader, my duty was to stop the simmering of decent from the lower ranks, even if it formed with the best of intentions (as she would defend them) I knew the story of how my last incarnation had fallen.

“Ancom has had no access to any form of information that could be of any use to the Nazi, they have been discovered to know of the existence of cells 21 and 20, I am going to discuss how they have done this. You will follow orders and prepare the meeting rooms for possible discussion, after that we will discuss if there are any further enquiries.”

My voice was firm, holding the bite I reserved for non-cooperative subjects. It filled the office space with its power my ability laced between the words, casing Ninel to look at me with shocked and an almost offended glimmer within her eyes. The rage she had been building now dissipated to thin air as she began to move without real control over her body, picking up paperwork and pulling out her phone with sharp motions.

I nodded curtly and turned to live, walking the few paces to the door and beginning to open it. Ninel spoke up, a soft tone returning to her voice, her aura had dimmed to a softer glow and she had a pen held daintily in her hands, and her short hair was less spiked up. Yet the words felt laced with acid, dripping off her honeyed tone with the same venom she reserved for the individuals she felt most repugnant,

“What name should I be using for Jay? They didn’t give a surname.”

I wondered for a few moments, as I stood in the well oiled and maintained door frame, no chipped paint or old dents scaring the wood. I supposed there was no simple answer or was it too simple? Ancom was very blunt about their past, for the most part, when enquired they would answer with a simple bare minimum answer. They had been killed by a police officer, so they didn’t like police officers. They went by the name Jay, they didn’t have a surname, from their own assertion. So I was unsure of how to go about this, as non-offensively as possible to let them hold their dignity and control over our perception of them.

“They said their name was “just Jay” so I suppose, leave the surname blank? wherever possible, at least. And put a place holder for where it is necessary. Possibly just have it as ‘redacted’? Or something plain, like Smith.”

Ninel’s too-toothy fake smile and prissy short nod made me feel worse than any form of outburst, as she bowed her head to continue work. I knew she believed in a state, but she also believed in rights and free speech and all that other… 

It was difficult for us to see eye to eye all the time, often disagreeing on many topics. And I was often forced to exert my power over her, those times were the times we would interact the least, as she slowly got over my breach of her ability to disagree with me, to stand up to me. I knew it was wrong but I got sick of the fight and often just wanted to get the situation over with before moving on instead of fighting with her, I didn’t work well with a two-party system. But I can’t dwell on that right now, I was issued with the difficult task of trying to figure out how Ancom had even discovered about the rooms 20 and 21, they had highly classified information that was basically inaccessible to anyone above Senior Officer or work staff captain.

And i had to find out how thye are going to react to it, as this could be the true signifier of their full power. Their reaction was the make or break of their allowence to remain in the facity.  
___________________________________________________________________

It felt like the shortest walk I’d ever decided to take, but also the longest, most agonisingly slow march towards my own doom. tense and silent. Filling my mind with hideous ideas of how they could have found out such highly classified information. Maybe they were a spy? Or maybe they could read minds? The ideas were sickening to consider as I followed the familiar path to the quarters.

Finally, I stood outside the door to the plain corridor that was home to the two (so-called) most-haunted rooms. I stopped and stared at the door, bowing my head to look at the gritty carpet, worn thin with age, although the deep scarlet shading still persisted dull in the less than adequate lights. I took in an agonizingly deep breath, building myself up an impenetrable wall of fake confidence. The style I knew could fool even the best in the industry, as it had many times. I raised my head and affixed the neutral authoritative line across my face, stoic yet self-assured I played the part of a leader well, as I always had to. 

I opened the door and began to walk down the hall, towards room 41, the most haunted room in the facility, and the room Ancom sat, knowing more than they ever should have found out. 

A worried woman stood outside, bobbing ever so slightly from foot to foot. Hazle eyes darting around, bouncing off white walls, with this anxious energy seen more often in rooky solders, yet she was clearly a well-seasoned Officer in her own rights. I walked up and the moment she saw me she stood at attention, the bouncing energy dissipated leaving her to stand at attention blank expression.

“Sir.”

She was formal, nodding to me with this fixed gaze, her voice ringing up and down the corridor clear and confident, unwavering. Her tied-back brown hair waving slightly as she made the sharp motion. She was the perfect soldier in every form. She was not the woman that had called me, I knew that much, but I wondered why there was the need for a solder if I had specifically requested it be avoided. 

“What is the issue?”

I asked bluntly, cold as ice, blood-red aura filling the cramped space with the sickening flicker of scarlet, staining both of us in its dark glow. I wanted to seem as powerful as possible, I knew I needed to be seen as competent to keep respect. The woman seemed just as prepared to play this game of wills, not fighting me, but her stuck out chin and her gaze locked with mine, gave her this unearthly power.

“The subject was uncooperative in remaining in the space alone, Sheila decided that it would be best to have a person on the door as well, the subject doesn’t know I’m here. I can leave if you deem it necessary, sir.”

Ancom wouldn’t be left alone? And it had been Sheila who found them? The ideas were interesting, but I pushed them aside before I could examine them too far making me lost in my own thought track at this moment would have been an idiotic decision, leaving it to later was the most obvious and sensible course of action.

I paused for a moment anyway, the solder should be dismissed, I can’t have an information breach, even to a higher-ranked officer, yet having her in the corridor would be a safer move in case Ancom fled. I dwelled for a moment but just as I was about to decide a frantic call came from in the room, like someone calling out for help as they were pulled beneath the surface. I froze. 

Throwing open the door with a clatter I was met by a cloud of black so thick nothing could be seen through it. The muffled calling was still there, desperate and frightened. The Officers sharp intake of breath as they looked at the cloud with wide eyes dragged me to my senses. I furrowed my brow with calculating eyes, although I have faced with the darkness the fact I knew what was going on now brought me some confidence as I recklessly walked headlong into the black clouds of smokey darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am like uber tired but I'm getting enough sleep and I can't tell what's wrong but it's getting annoying, I'm still getting splitting headaches, and basically every time I go online in the day my brain just tries to murder me...
> 
> ok, I'll stop complaining its just I feel really shit rn and idk how to deal with my feelings...
> 
> ya also this is a shit chapter where I have literally nowhere to go forward with anything its just Authleft being a dick I'm sorry aaaaa
> 
> spelling and grammar corrections? and pronouns if I'm fucking up. it's really helpful <3


	15. Chapter 15

Chocking smoke filled my lungs, fear and frustration shooting up and down my body like an electrical bold, shocking me and priming me, telling me to run, telling me to fight. Telling me to do something, anything, just not continuing through the black fog. I ploughed on, ignoring every nerve-ending in my body. I knew I was dooming myself, setting myself up for so much worse, but I couldn’t stop. I was fighting every inkling of commonsense that I still somehow maintained, pushing aside my carefully cultivated caution to instead deal with the situation like a Russian, with the bold brashness I had been so proud of, before my death.

I walked blindly, arms stretched out ahead of me, but I couldn’t even see my hands, that were barely two feet away from my face. I controlled my breathing as the developed anxiety the fog gave was messing with my breathing, I forced the shallow frantic breaths to return to long deep breaths, counting in my head while I stumbled around trying to find the bed the wall anything to tell me where I was.

My foot hit the edge of a small table, the one to the right of the bed, the dull funk of my leg and the desks impact blended with the eerie tinkle of the lamp, I could just barely see the top of filling the space, sharp and vivid shockingly loud, compared to the shallow breaths and whimpers coming from somewhere to the left of me, although the echoing of the room was off-putting in trying to find anything by ear. I stumbled along the bed, keeping a hand on the mattress as to help steady myself as I struggled forward the panic and frustration beginning to build to a truly unbearable level, so strong I could barely think of anything else, I was slipping as I struggled forward, losing count to my breaths, mind running in circles.

Blinding white light stopped me in my tracks. And then there was this relief, as though breathing air after drowning, blissful peace, my mind falling silent not screaming at me to escape, the electricity running currents up and down my body dissipated. It didn’t last. My mind was dragged back to earth the moment my vision cleared, losing that blissful ease in a matter of moments, ripped away to reveal a soul-shattering scene unfolding.

The eye of a storm is always so calm, and although this was not a raging coil of destruction the way it appeared to the onlooker it may as well have been. Ancom was sat curled against the bottom of the bed, they had their head pressed between their legs, making their already small form so compact and small they look a child, they were shaking violently, their fluffy curly hair was shaking and their hands were curled against the sides of their head not pressed between their leg, trying to cover themselves shield themselves from the world, from her.

The cloud of black smoke extended tendrils, curled around her, embracing her like long grasping arms, locking her in, holding her in place. Her mouth and nose were covered by the dark smoky tendrils, but her eyes were uncovered. The panic reflected in them was shocking. Sheila was a headstrong bitch, she faced the world like her own personal punching bag, she was head of maintenance staff, she had seen it all, she was so used to the worst of humanity she wouldn’t even bat an eye. But now she was being pulled in by the black smoke, panic dancing like wild flames in her blue eyes. Her usually neet impeccable hair was stood on end, her present uniform wrapped in tendrils of fear, she shook.

A tiny whimper from her, a desperate plea for help, no words could be formed just that sound, the fear. it ripped me from my shock, sending a new form of lightning through my body, I immediately jumped on the theoretical grenade. All I knew was to protect the people, at all costs, even to the cost of my own life. I moved swiftly across the carpeted space, not paying attention to any danger this could put me in, I had to protect my people, I had to protect everyone.

I dropped to the floor next to the small form of Ancom curled on the floor, shaking. I curled my arms around them and pulled them into my chest. Locking them back against the bord of the bed, head cradled in my neck. I locked their hands pressed between my and their chests. They shook and fidgeted and struggled, they hadn’t seen me approach, they hadn’t seen me at all, and now they were trapped. I suppose that wasn’t the best move but I had to protect Sheila, I had to protect the people the worker. The fidgeting the moving, it lasted for what felt like a decade, getting more and more desperate, pushing and squirming and attempts at kicking, but I kept them pressed into my chest. Breathing slowly, trying to make them match my slow deep pace, I wanted patiently, and slowly, ever so slowly they calmed down, the shaking soothed to a slight quiver the shallow breaths returned to an ordinary pattern, and the frantic pace their puls had been going at had cooled to a soothing beat.

Slowly I pulled away from them, keeping my hands on their arms, pinning them back to the baseboard of the bed. They were so close to me, I could see the faintest smattering of freckles across their nose almost so pale they were none-existent but they still stained their face pale and small, spattering similar to flicked paint from a finely combed brush.

“Can you talk?”

I was relaxed, acting as if I had not just held them for the second time today, eyes locking with theirs as they slightly tilted their head. The delicate twitch beneath their right eye told me they were also thinking of that room, the freshness of both experiences mingling within both our minds. Before I could open my mouth and somehow mess this all up I was stopped, the shrieking pissed off hiss resembled that of a cat, fighting over territory in the back of an alleyway. 

I immediately dropped the almost-soft tone of voice I had been using, when so close to Ancom it was impossible to act like an angry all-powerful dictator, it was plain tiring to put on a show for someone I knew was just scared by my presence alone, no make-believe exterior would scare them any more than just existing in the same space. But when I turned to the angry woman I pulled myself up to the full extent of my hight, standing tall and proud, a beacon of authority and power, towering over her easily. Affixing my dark-eyed gaze on her face, ready for any form of attack with my own suttle form os a non-aggressive approach. 

“What happened?”

Sheila puffed up, like a defensive bird, disgruntled and angry, as she stumbled forward slightly, standing as tall as she could (about level with my chin) to stand toe to toe with me, flames of rage dancing in her eyes as her hands still shook. Although she was shaking and short she looked the same, cold and angry ready to take on the world, similar to Ninel yet she was a lot less subtle when it came to expressing her, displeasure in a specific situation.

“That-”

Her face contorted in hatred and anger, as her gaze flitted away from me to Ancom, who was still sat against the headboard still curled around themselves, still with that uncertain terrified look dazzling in their eyes. The moment I had let go of them, the black clouds had begun to build up again. Now forming in the corners of the room, I decided it was best to leave them be for the moment at least, although their presence was a constant reminder of the possible danger we were in just sitting in the space.

“That- THING!”

Her yell was jarring, Sheila was never tactful with her words but it was ringing around the room with a harsh cruelty I had never really heard in her words. Sheila was brash but she wasn’t rude, strong-willed but not so stubborn she could not see the error of her ways she was not intentionally cruel or abusive to the people lower than her or to the people above her. I checked the door, remembering the guard still possibly standing in the corridor if the door was open Ancom would have an escape route, I didn’t want them loose in the facility.

At her words Ancom sat up rather rigidly, jolting like they had been shocked by an electrical cable. The smoky clouds grew darker at the edges of the room threateningly blotting out the details from their angle, on the floor, they stared daggers up at Sheila, more animosity reflected in their grey eyes, than I had ever seen, they glowed a dulled green and the details of their form became akin to a horror movie, dull shadowy green creating this deathly dark glow, like a corpse. Still curled on the carpeted floor,

“Their name is… Jay.”

My response was casual, relaxed although it held a slight edge to it, I didn’t want to out them as Ancom or whatever the grey fog signified them as they had said post left when we talked but I was still uncertain about how that was possible. Didn’t really matter though as I just wanted this conversation to go down, without having to physically restrain ever of them. And by the way both their eyes were dancing with flames, I was already preparing myself to use my entire ability on both of them.

Sheila tutted disapprovingly, ticking up her nose and looking at me with this disgusted look like she had just watched a drunk vomit or had stepped in something disgusting. Ancom only drew further back legs tucking further into their chest and their head bowing onto their knees slightly covering most of their face living just their scruffy brown curls. And the tops of their crest brows visible. 

“Now, what happened?”

My voice still carried that edge, bordering on cold but really just calm, eyes still fixed on the woman, drawn to her fullest height she was holding this power and dignity she maintained through sheer force of will, yet her hands were shaking slightly, Dark hazel-brown eyes fixed, once again, on me; dancing with the fury she held within her soul. Slowly she drew back, like a snake preparing to strike its prey, she maintained the deathly silence, weighing on the air heavily, eyes never leaving my face, she began with a bitter tone,

“Well. that little… Jay. they know about rooms 21 and 20 and about their occupants… I have no idea how they could find out about that, but I suppose I will never be informed,”

Her sour expression turned to a more pondering one as she considers, eyes wondering from my face for a few moments before returning, renewed flames,

“Jay was upset at being left alone in the room, so I elected to stay with-”  
“I would have happily been left on my own, you refused to leave me alone in the room,”

A muffled voice behind me reminded both of us, I believe, that they were still listening to her account of what happened, Sheila flushed slightly at their comment before pulling a sour face and looking at the top of their head with an expression so filled with spite it was almost comical. I had to fight myself from laughing at the childish way the situation was being handled, as though neither could interact without a moderator both so filled with mistrust that they could not even act like adults.

“I Elected to stay with them in this room, and I Attempted to have a conversation.”

Her eyes remained fixed on Ancom, as her words were almost spat out, I had never seen a human act so bravely in the face of an ideology, most certainly never seen a human talking down to one. But all Ancom did was curl further in on themselves, as though they were putting a wall between them and the world, but their hands were also shaking, like Sheila they were still scared.

“The conversation wasn’t… civilised.”

Her words still heald a bite, but now a quiver grew to her words, making it break slightly as she pushed out each word head still heald high. It was pitiable, the way she acted so confident, I glance at the door once more, trying not to look at the brave human, petrified by what she had been put through, still putting on a show of courage. The silence hung for a few moments, Ancom let out a slightly muffled sigh, it was detected and broken, as they curled back. The black clouds at the edges of the room were turning darker by the moment, but they maintained the position looming out of the corners of the room, like a spectre of doom.

“And a demonstration of Jay’s little ability became apparent?”

The short nod and a slight snarl was all the response Sheila gave her eyes sill dark and brooding on Ancom. Her hands were still trembling, but her panicked jittering motions were more relaxed, smoother. More graceful. The darkness lingered at the edges of my vision as I considered what to do. I had to talk to Ancom. I had to get this cleared up. But all I could do was stand there. Pondering as I observed both individuals waiting in damped anticipation for my next move.

I breathed a deep sigh, looking at the floor and rubbing my nose, it was really dinner time for off duty soldiers, Sheila should be heading to a meal realistically. But I needed this on paper, the whole incident needing documenting. The darkness needed to be noted, I needed to write my own report on the day’s situations. It was all so dull, how could this be one day? 

“Write a report on what happened, leave it on my desk, I’ll pick it up later. Then I’d recommend getting something to eat, I think its beans night,”

I sounded tired, more tired than I felt, but the tone of my voice made her immediately back away, almost scared, although it was more apprehension as she nodded and turned to live,

“oh and Ninel might want company.”

I added it as an afterthought, as she began to live, nodding once again as she walked through the door frame, barely revealing the guard, still standing in the corridor, I suppose it was ok most certainly a safer move, although I had to mentally remind myself to keep my voice to the bare minimum of volume.

I turned back to the small form on the floor, bundled up in that old ratty hoodie, hiding their face in their legs and arms, I sighed again, they looked so broken, I didn’t want to disturb them, fearing of destroying their shattered soul beyond any form of repair, but I had too. I had to know how they breached our best security, what they were also able of. They looked so weak, innocent. Curled on the floor head pressed into their legs, arm wrapped defensively, how could they be any threat to us?

“So-”

I tried to biggin my questioning, struggling to figure out where to begin. before I got cut off by them pulling their head up and releasing their arms, they stuttered and stumbled over words as they begin their own repetitive pleading babble. similar to the begging for their life, but now it was more a plea of forgives more pleading for them not to be harmed, they were still curled into a tight ball but now they were rocking back and forth, head held up so they were almost looking at me, but not quiet. 

Their words became a shower of meaningless babble as they got faster and faster, more and more stressed. They were wrung taught each stumbling word, each panicked rock each drawn-out second making them more and more stressed, frightened. Eyes blew wide.

It was sickening to watch them build and build on their panic, powerless and yet holding all the power. Nazi must have loved it, he must of reviled in the way they trembled and pleaded the way fear danced across their face as they struggled to hold onto the words rushing out of them.

“Ancom.”

My voice was calm, level and controlled, the complete opposite to them, at that moment, I watched them shaking and rocking and babbling, but I didn’t register any of it, I couldn’t hear a word, couldn’t really see them moving.

“Ancom.”

My voice was a bit louder but they continued not to notice, this made me slightly frustrated. And I decided to do something I probably would regret.

Slowly I lowered myself to the ground so that I once again sat in front of then, they were so far gone they didn’t even notice my decent to their level, once I was facing them on their own level I made the most common order I ever formed, 

“Be silent.”

They continued to mouth the words, but no sound was formed, they were rocking still but slowly they stopped, realising they couldn’t speak, that they were not making a sound, just struggling to form words. Their eyes fixed on me, focusing in on me with this focus I'd never seen before, shocked and terrified they looked at me with grey cloudy globes, I knew the darkness at the edges of the room was growing by the second but I couldn’t get them to listen to me,

“I want you to listen to me. I don’t care, I just need to talk to you. No need to apologize or shit, I get it. Sheila’s a bitch.”

It was unprofessional to talk about my staff like that but I was done with listening to their panicked babble, it was devastating to watch, I thought of them as a possible ally but they seemed to see me as nothing but a threat to their existence. I shuffled slightly so that I was sat crosslegged, and they flinched away as if I’d hit them. 

“All I want is to ask you some questions… can we please get along till the end of this questioning, then you can fear or hate or just not care about me at all. Just give me a few minutes with you, not Nazis you. Ancom you. I met them… the true you. Jay?”

They were still trembling, the rocking dissipated but the electric shock-like flinches and twitches were there. They nodded. lighter eyes flickering a pale green, not the rotten corps shade, more like a fresh lime or spring leaves gentler and more soothing, it was refreshing compared to the dull greys and smoky clouds.

“You can talk freely.”

My words were barely above a whisper, but after I said them this relaxed wave fell over Ancom. the power of speech returned to them. The relief on their face was almost pitiful as they lowered their shoulders slightly from their neck, easier to breathe clearly

“Ok, can you talk?”

The question was mainly just complementary, making the other person feel more at ease after being controlled. Ancom looked at the floor for a moment, before looking up at me directly in the eye,

“Why do you have a fascist in your complex?, I thought you were left-wing, like not advocating the deaths of people like...”

So we’re starting with the big guns? This is gonna be fun… and wasn’t it me who was supposed to be asking the questions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna die,   
> like half of this is unproofread,   
> but my brain has turned to putty   
> and I just can't,   
> so sorry if this reads like dried cat shit.
> 
> would yall minded if I go through and add chapter titles? like is that a thing...  
> cuz it's getting confusing to tell between chapters when I'm tired...
> 
> uummmm  
> grammar/spelling/pronoun mistakes pointed out is the most helpful staff, its the way I learn <3  
> thx for reading


	16. Chapter 16

I became, me I suppose, who I am today at least, a long time ago, longer than I can really imagen, I swear I may have lived countless human lifetimes, I certainly can tell hundreds of almost forgotten storeys of men and woman, standing up for what they believe in. I suppose standing up for what I believe in got me into this mess… 

Poetic? Really it was absolute shit.

I had worked with the fascist once, a long time ago, I suppose almost directly after he became the current incarnation, the monster he is today. I met when he barely knew who he really was. The disgusting creature that acted so cruelly and without the slightest visage of remorse, I saw him when he first began his attempts to rule. I could have stopped the hideous regime he leads, at the roots. Pity. 

But we worked together, I almost called him friend, I almost called him more….

I felt disgusting afterwards, of course, the brain can play tricks when is a high-stress situation like the one we worked together during, they can make you feel things that you know aren’t true. But it felt, at the moment, like truth, it was like a knife ripping into my arteries, taring me out from the inside when he did what he did. But I can’t dwell on a mistake that has been so utterly destroyed from mind and heart. I refuse to dwell on the way the betrayal had so utterly crushed me at the moment. I’d felt weak, I had learned to never let myself be weak again.

When we had worked together, we had fought fo after fo, slicing through armies like they were nothing but paper, wave after wave we crushed them at every turn. Easly it had been so easy, for every man of ours they killed we decimated 12 of theirs, and yet they kept coming. We faced them with the brash ignorant confidence of the young, we had been foolish, although my years of battle I was drawn into his idiocy, I was drawn into the easy certainty of victory. It had been intoxicating, but alcohol can poison, even my tolerance for the stuff could be pushed once gone too far.

The day started like all days, with dusty grey clouds threatening to unleash a torrent of sleet on the already muddied fields. The sun rarely showed and when it dared peek from beneath the layers of clouds its rays were weak and feeble barely warming the dark stones and soaked men. 

Nazi insisted our army be men, I had once insisted my armies comprise of men, I suppose that’s why we got along so easy, blissful ignorance was an appetising state of mind and I was not but a product of my times. 

We had gone down to the fields, hearing of the rumours of someone with great power, someone seemingly no man could kill, a death machine, ploughing a gaping hole in our fortified line of defence. But of course, no man could kill it. It had been a giant fucking ape, not a man and it wasn’t any ape that could fall at a normal bullet ever. Ape Political, in its ugly powerful visage, grey fur, spiky like thorns on a bush, and as sparse as the patches of grass barely showing on the muddied grounds of war, paler skin blotted with darker marks, an aged foe, the ideology had lived a long life, longer than anyone could be bothered to document. No one can tell how an ape could become ideology ever, but somehow the ancient creature was fighting once more, screaming its wretched war cry as it ripped solders in half with the ease of a practised skill.

A ideology was the only way to kill another ideology. This wasn’t often an issue, we kill each other so often if other beings could kill us the death rate wouldn’t increase by much. But when one of the ideologies was running rampant, one so violent it was leaving a line of blood behind it, spattered in the mud making the water run scarlet. Then it was an issue, not a single man could kill it as it rampaged. Not a man could get close enough to kill it by hand.

We were at a point when a bullet wouldn’t kill the beast ever, Nazi fired a few into its chest and although blood formed the beast didn’t succumb to the wound. Instead, it ripped more solders in two, it roared louder and it moved with rage burning bright and brash in its being if it had a soul then the walls were painted a brash shade of brash unwelcoming scarlet.

I was always an idiot when it came to sensible decisions, I always made the brash decision at the moment, not thinking of the consequences, I am a forward person, so I ran. directly at the opposition, no thoughts given to how I could die so easily beneath the monsteras hands of the grunting shouting creature. Fear forgot in the moment of decision.

I was prepared to be ripped to shreds, I was certainly almost crushed on impact. My whole body was thrown back the length of a bus corridor, I had never been lifted off my feet so easily, never been thrown back with a single swing. it had been terrifying, yet exhilarating. The impact had been indescribable, the silence I was left in, no aching no burn just a dull sense of wrongness blossoming through my body, and then burning pain, white-hot, but not from the impact with the blood-spattered ground, but the white-hot burn of pain directly from impact in my stomach. I still have a scar. 

Blood soaked through my uniform, oozing down tiny rivers of scarlet to join the puddles on the muddy ground. And I could do nothing but stare, as my body was burning with the agony of it all. I couldn’t rationalise any of it, as I stared down at what I had considered my deading view. But I had not died, although now I wonder why Nazi had not just pulled a gun and shot me while I was so close. Instead, I saw, something in his poster, something in the crease of his brow, something within him, shift, like a stone falling out of place, Reaching a hand out he said the words I will never forget, 

“A powerful ideology, like you, does not get to die in the mud. Get up.”

His hand was smaller than mine, not as callused or worn, not as used to the labours of the working man, he had only known war only fought with weapons that would not rip his skin, a gun, not an axe a bullet instead of the seeds littering our farmlands after long days of work; just body, discarded to be left nameless. But the scars on his fingertips and the muddy palms, the intricate details of the lines running crevices into his hands, they told of his past humanity. Although not a labourer, not the working man, he had been human. And that humanity, although now I saw is as fake, led to a powerful discovery.

I’m not sure how we had done it, really I’m unsure of whether it was more than just the way my hand wrapped around is or if it was the humanity we shared. But the grey sky was set ablaze brighter than the watery weak sun ever could have. A man, tall and broad statured, similar to me, I guess, but with the sharp face and soft hands of Nazi, hands that were held pals flat facing the sky out in front of him opening his body almost as if he was welcoming to a hug. His eyes were closed and he had been in an almost meditative state. As he floated a beacon of light above us. Purple a bright vivid purple, so bright it was blinding. 

And then he opened his eyes. And the last thing I saw before an ear-splitting cry and the whole filed when white was his eyes. One was the nazis sparkling yet sly eyes and the other was my own red and dark, like clouds of blood. 

After the lights show was over, my vision was still blotted out from the blinding, Nazi seemed to be able to see first as a simple laugh was his response, short and not extremely mirth filled, more like he was just registering what he was seeing and making a comment. 

The filed was splattered in blood and bones of those the ape had ripped apart, but where the ape had stood was something much worse.

The skin was ripped like a million paper cuts, bones were splitting the skin sticking out at strange angles mashed and pointed at the tips splintering, the oozing blood making the patchy grey fur a vivid red as the form twitched on the floor. Its eye sockets, once holding beady globes filled with malice and rage, now all that was left was the oozing reminisce and the lost tales left hanging limply. The head of the ape has cracked down the centre skull fragments piercing out of the sliced skin of its face, some parts lying on the ground beneath its lip form, inside its head, seen through the gaps was its brain, an oozing mess sat staring back at us with its bloodied visage.

“Took you long enough!”

All Nazbols are insane, or at least they end up that way. It’s the way of the Wacky ideologies, or so most older ideologies scoff under their breaths when they meet him, talking of how we admired his power now but one day we will just as easily rid ourselves of him, he had run his purpose for countless incarnations of us, so easily discarded it was common knowledge to the older ideologies. But when he first introduced himself to us, we knew something about him was so…

He was a true man, a person so honest with all he was all he stood for. He never claimed anything, never hid anything, never used manipulative language. Nazbol had been Nazbol, nothing more nothing less. He had joined us in the war after that day and I suppose that’s why I was so attached to him all these years on. A powerful ally, he could flatten armies with single words desecrate people he saw unfit of living, in our great state, with a sharp glare. He was me in his blunt, honest way of acting and thinking approaching topics with this realistic outlook, but he was Nazi in his sweetly sly smile and standoffish but adaptable demeanour. 

It broke him, more than it broke me, the day of The Identitarian’s departure. He was never the same afterwards, and I suppose it was his tipping point, where he began his spiral. 

Nazi never wanted him. All he wanted was his power, but he knew that although still being very powerful, still being able to obliterate opponents with the blink of an eye, he would never be as powerful as he had been. He lost half of himself and he would never et it back, due to Nazis departure. 

I took him in, lived for years with him, slowly spirling. It was devastating to watch, working for hours in the day building the grate party we now worked as, during the day. Only to return to him, sat staring at the wall, lost. His glow was never as bright, his eyes never as joyous. I brought him to work often enough for people to know who he was, but he never talked to anyone. Apart from when we used him for his other…

Skills... 

His insanity, apart from destroying what made him so powerful, gave him something else, or maybe it was because something was broken when Nazi left, ever way, he tried to fill the space his empty mind, so desperate to be whole again, I guess. This lust for blood, it became a part of his being, a part of his soul. It was ugly to watch, but it gave results…

Nazbol became our head of information ‘extraction’ and was moved into the complex on the strict ruling that he would be looked after. At least till after the war. Nazbol was crushed further when he found out he was to torture those he would have called brother in another life. Every session he came out more broken, I watched it all happen, I remained silent. He was but another chess peace to me, or so I always had to say, but I still, twice a week, went to his cell/quarters, at the base of the building, to have tea or coffee and just keep him company for an hour or two. I needed it often enough, after seeling him dripping in blood, coming out of the interrogation room, an animalistic look dancing in his eyes. I needed to see the innocence within him, that light laugh that easy smile. I would miss him after the war... 

I laughed easily, looking at Ancoms scared face, smiling down at them I replied,  
“Nazbol? He’s harmless…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would anyone care if I added chapter titles?   
> like its getting really hard to figure out where I put my shitty lil details   
> idk if it really matters...
> 
> anyhoo...   
> this was like really fun. idk why I just like writing in abstracts and jumping around,   
> but if it's really confusing just tell me...
> 
> aaaaaaa talking like this is uber weird...
> 
> ya umm 
> 
> grammar and spelling? telling me is uber helpful as I can figure out this writing stuff,   
> also if you have any questions about this I completely understand if it's confudling   
> I'm not entirely sure what just wrote, just ask :)) 
> 
> thx for reading


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